


One Huge Genderfluid Dramatic Shapeshifting Ego, And Also Loki

by AngelfishInAmerica



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Genderfluid OC, Lite Transphobia, Loki is canon genderfluid but ppl love to overlook it so i'm specifying it anyway, Multi, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15627411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelfishInAmerica/pseuds/AngelfishInAmerica
Summary: Tony Stark looks between Loki and you, arms crossed with the demeanor of a very tired, somewhat disappointed father. "So, let's just put this all in perspective. We, The Avengers, need someone with shapeshifting abilities on our team. And our options, our fucking options, are an incredibly capable thousands-year-old god with a body count, and a clinically anxious college student that can barely hold it together."You looked at Loki; Loki looked at you."Yes."





	1. Getting this party started

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my shitshow! Working title. 
> 
> This fic is technically Loki/OC (and even more technically, Loki/my self insert) but because I was cursed by Homestuck to only know how to write in second person, I'm also categorizing it as Loki/reader. There will be specific referencing of the OC's personality and life, but feel free to settle yourself into this narrative. I especially wanted to slap this under Loki/reader because as a nonbinary person, it sucks reading so many fics that are geared at specifically female OR male readers. There will be parts of this that are vent-pieces for my gender identity, and I hope that there are other NB people out there who find comfort in it and can identify with this narrative as a little change of pace.
> 
> (I'm categorizing this as M/F because Loki will be primarily masc-presenting and Mx will be primarily femme-presenting and M/M and F/F didn't feel quite right, but they are both genderfluid bi/pan shapeshifters and that WILL be explored.)
> 
> I'm tentatively setting this at Mature but if I get comfortable with my writing they'll fuck.
> 
> (ALSO, if you've read my other fics, I just haven't been into Jojo in a long time, I'm really sorry! Maybe I'll come back to them. Every few months I get a comment begging me to continue and I just haven't been up to it. I appreciate your support.)

“So are we clear?”

“No.”

“What?”

“We're not.”

“I just explained it to you.”

“Yes, you just explained.. something, to me, but it seems both too off and too convenient. I applied for an internship with Stark Industries. An internship in,” and you winced just saying the word, “accounting. And you're telling me I'm on a trial for a status as an Avenger?”

“Yes.”

“You do see the disconnect here, right?”

“Alright, look. Most people would be jumping at this,” said the manager. “You put on your form that you can shapeshift. Stark is looking for a shapeshifter. To be brutally honest, we have better candidates for accounting. You study theater, and your grades are stellar, but upon review we're more interested in your powers and your performance skills. Are you interested or not?”

“I--” you started, and stopped. You pursed your lips and thought. You had promised your uncle you would focus on your business skills with this summer's internship. It wasn't as though you spoke often, but he'd ask at some point. Working for a major company like Stark was already a far cry from your comfort zone, but something that was implying this much involvement? It was tricky, to say the least. You opened your mouth again, asking, “Will I get college credits?”

The manager looked perplexed, but shook their head. “Yeah, sure, we can make that happen,” you were told, and it was somewhat evident in their voice that they weren't sure why you gave a shit about college credits right now in the face of the opportunity you'd just been presented. But hey, you were already thousands of dollars deep in loans. You weren't dropping the educational ball yet.

“Alright. Where's my room?”

“This way, miss.”

 _Ugh_.

\---------------

In your brief but thorough orientation to this… program, of sorts, you'd been informed that you were essentially competing for the position. Exactly what you needed, of course; 2 cups of stress, a tablespoon of impostor syndrome when lined up with other candidates, half a cup of self-induced stress from living up to expectations, and a pinch of clinical anxiety flare-ups. The nice thing about this program was that they would be covering your medications under company insurance, so some of the anxiety would be taken care of; however, they would also be closely monitoring your medications to see the effect on your body, which probably would fill in the gaps of that any fear had been alleviated. But what's an internship without a little panic, right?

They didn't tell you who you were competing with. They said you would become acquainted soon enough, with no definitive answer on when. For now, you were to work independently. There were stacks of paperwork to fill out, background checks to agree to, and both formal and informal testing and training. You asked what the hell an informal training was; they did not respond. So that was cool.

“Miss Johnson,” someone said, and you looked up instinctively before you could give a sassy retort to the usage of your legal name. There was a tablet in your hands that you were struggling to fill out forms on with not _quite_ the daintiest fingers. You still hadn't responded. “Miss Johnson?”

You were back in the real world. “That’s not my name,” you said, squinting, as the person’s identity became clear to you.

“Sure says so on this background check.”

“It's called a legal name change. I haven't been Miss Johnson on paper in two years, and not socially for at least six.”

“Cool, but why,” said Tony Stark with the speed and precision you had previously only witnessed in his interviews online. It wasn't even a question.

“Because it's not my name,” you said, perhaps too sharp a tone for your new boss, “which you knew, because you ran the background check. And I'm not a Miss, either, which you know from my preference forms. You ought to update to have gender neutral options so I don't need to pencil them in myself, by the way.”

He squinted, and the gravity of standing up as a trans person in a major corporation immediately sank in. “You don't look very gender neutral to me,” he said, eyes comfortably set on your cleavage.

You inhaled loudly and set down the iPad, bringing your fingertips together. You were willing to bet you were the first time he had encountered someone who identified the way you do, and he was--what, in his 40s? You were never great with ages. Point is, you knew you had to set a precedent here, and be the Good Trans Kid. So you stood up, held your hand out in a very elementary school career day fashion, and spoke.

“Let's try this again. Hello, Mr. Stark, my name is Lum DeVico. You can call me Mx. DeVico, or just Lum. My pronouns are they/them/theirs, and if any of this confuses you, I would be happy to engage in a _polite_ discussion of nonbinary identity.”

You were met with silence. Your hand was out there and he looked between it and your face, brows raised. You were effectively transfixed with fear that you had just fucked up big time, from raised hairs to tight lips to a pounding, pounding heart. Finally, he took your hand.

“Alright. Hello… Mx… Lum.” He looked strained--the familiar face of a man finding humility--and spoke again to add, “Apologies for any disrespect. I'm Tony Stark. I've got questions, but you've got work, so let's walk and talk, kid.”

“Alright,” you replied, still reeling in the moment. He.. actually listened. Sort of. This guy is different from the cocky asshole you watched on TV a couple years ago. Maybe you could do this.

You did, in fact, walk and talk, and you learned that Tony Stark had a powerful stride. Reasonable, you supposed, when he had this whole tower to run. You had thought you were a power walker, but a corporate leader is a few notches above a stressed university student.

“So basically,” he was saying, when you tuned back in, “we've realized the Avengers Initiative could use some more covert powers, and shapeshifting is a big ticket in that game--which I'm sure you know. We have a very powerful shapeshifter offering services, but there's a bit of a.. complication.”

“A complication was mentioned, yes,” you said, trying to keep up and keep the information flowing. You received no immediate response as you both slowed down to step into an elevator. “...What is the complication?” you asked, gently pressing for more.

The elevator quickly descended.

“Do you remember the Battle of New York, kid?”

“I'm not _that_ young,” you nearly spat, before even registering the words. It sank in a bit, and you slowed. “Yes, I do.”

Floors passed.

“How much you know?”

God, this elevator was slow.

“As much as there was to graze from the surface, I guess. It was a lot and it devastated families but also sparked a lot of important discourse in my local communities. From what I remember, I guess, hot norse gods show up, one spits out some neonazi rhetoric about humanity kneeling to him, aliens I think? Fighting, destruction. Alarmingly easy to digest in the current superpowered social climate, now that I think about it. Why?”

When you looked back to Tony--Mr. Stark, you corrected yourself, mentally--he looked a bit taken aback and _largely_ amused, and you realized that you had continued speaking while entering some sort of lab. You cleared your throat loudly as you took in the room.

“Hello, most of the Avengers including Thor,” you greeted the room, wondering if it was reasonable to resign and move to another state after calling a god hot on your first day of work. You elected no, for now, because he also seemed to be pretty amused, so that was good.

“Greetings,” he said, giving a half wave before returning his arm to being crossed over his chest. He was leaning against the edge of a table next to some other people you weren't too familiar with but immediately knew that you should be.

“Good morning, team,” Stark said confidently. “This is Lum DeVico, pending for the shapeshifter position. Also pending is publicity name, as well as codename.” The word codename was immediately met with a few (several) groans, which was super reassuring about workplace morale. How exciting.

“So,” you said after a beat of silence. “Why did you bring up the Battle of New York, again?”

Tony looked like he was choosing his words wisely, but was cut off by another member. “Wait, hold on. You've had her fill out how much paperwork without explaining this all?”

“It's, uh, them,” Stark said, clearly straining himself to keep in line after the interaction just ten minutes ago. Except this other guy didn't look much younger than Stark and you could tell he had no idea what the fuck that meant, which was tragic since he looked like a good potential sugar daddy, but it's the thought that counts. “Anyway, no, on account of that being confidential government intel, since you seem to have forgotten, Banner.”

Banner. Banner banner. Banner… BRUCE BANNER HULK Banner Hulk. The caveman running your mental faculties finally processed who this man was.

“You’re Bruce Banner!” you exclaimed.

“Yes.” Short and sweet. How do you follow up?

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand for a shake, and he very awkwardly completed the gesture. “I know a lot of people who look up to you.” His brows furrowed in confusion, but he also smiled, and he looked so dumbly sweet for a man as educated as he was.

“Banner has fans!” Thor said after clearing his throat. “That’s excellent! But on the topic of, well, all this, does she--them--when are we going to talk about the _thing_?” What thing? The problem? With the other applicant? Your drama kid ass was way too nosey for them to just be dangling this kind of info over you. Stark was prepping an answer when you cut in.

“Hi, hey, right here,” you reminded. “What is the _thing_ . Would really like to know about the _things_ that haven’t been explained to me. Because it has been a long day of tests and I am tired and _really really nosey_ and want to know.”

Stark raised his eyebrows. “Alright, since no one here seems concerned with confidentiality and we’ve already made you sign quite a few waivers and contracts, I guess we’ll just get right into it. We’re trying to flesh out our team because there’s a whole lot going on in the world--in the universe--right now, and The Avengers,” and you could practically hear him capitalizing those words, “are needed more than ever. We have realized just how incredibly useful shapeshifting could be in certain missions, and while we have a pretty strong candidate lined up, there’s some issues there.” You kept your eyes on the others while he spoke, and Thor seemed to be shrugging in reluctant agreement at that last statement. But none of this told you any more than you already knew. Which you tell him.

“None of this tells me any more than I already knew. What is the issue?”

“Well, it’s--” Stark started, interrupted by a buzzing on Banner’s phone, which irritated him on a level comparable to your professors when the same thing happened mid-lecture. Banner looked panicked. “Care to share with the class?”

“It’s uh, he’s, uh.. Loki is fighting with the attendant again,” he said sheepishly.

“ _Loki_?” you asked. Many things were dawning on you just hearing that name. Your voice was a mixture of fear, excitement and painful curiosity.

“That’s the issue.”

“That’s the--you’re--okay. Let me get this straight. The complication you’ve been mentioning is that I am currently fighting for a place on _The Avengers_ with _Loki_ , who, you know, just getting this straight, here, which I don’t do often, but _Loki_ , who was the sole perpetrator of the fucking _Battle of New York Fiasco_ , cause of at least, I dunno, _a few_ deaths,  I am running alongside him on some sort of campaign to be the next Avenger.”

“...Yes?” Stark says (asks?), fully accepting that this cat is out of the bag.

“Oh, this,” you’re in mild hysterics trying to process what bizarro shit is happening here. Didn’t he like, kill people? Try to start a war? Well, he’s a white man, by Earth terms, but this seemed even beyond what the media could justify. “This is incredible. I don’t know what to--” You stopped again; thought. There’s a lot to unpack here and no one else was speaking. “Can I meet him?”

You looked at Stark, Stark looked at Banner, Banner looked at Thor, Thor looked back at Banner, they all looked at each other in exhausted amusement, and then everyone looked back at Stark. He sighed. “It’s gonna happen one way or another. Let’s take a field trip.”


	2. Mr. Woki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he doesn't like you.

Many thoughts passed through your mind on the way to meet Loki. Thoughts like, 'Is this really fucking happening?’ As well as, 'No, really, is this fucking happening?’ alongside some passing thoughts of attraction to at least half of these people, fear of asserting your identity to  _ all _ of these people, and general inadequacy as you realized that you were seriously trying to secure a spot on the Avengers against a  _ god. _ No big deal.

The schematics of Stark’s building never ceased to confuse you, and you arrived sooner than your feet were willing to stop. You found yourself at the front of the pack looking through a glass screen at a tall, narrow man with greasy black hair and a suit that you were inclined to say was a little too tight on him, not that you've ever been opposed to scrawny boys in tight pants. He was snapping at what you assumed to be a lab assistant with absolutely no regard for the crowd that had just entered. That is, until Bruce Banner came crashing past you.

“What is it this time, Lyssa?” Bruce asked, voice heavy with exhaustion. You supposed this happened often.

“Oh, you know, just a rumbly tumbly with Mr. Woki over here, this time it's…” but the absolute nonsense coming out of the assistant's mouth trailed off and your mind ground to a halt as you processed that the too-tight-suit man was Loki. What business did a high profile terrorist have looking that good?

You tuned back into the conversation.

“--and if she calls me  _ Woki _ one more time, I assure you, you will be in need of another assistant, I will  _ not _ tolerate this, I am a g--”

“--Loki, you don't get to make demands, we're being kind enough to cover for you after your subjugation spree, but Lyssa, please don't taunt--”

“--Mr. Woki sounds a widdle ma--”

“--Say it again, I'll have your  _ head-- _ ”  _ (Holy shit is he drawing a weapon?) _

“--Mr. Wo--”

“--This was the big secret?” you asked, finally, begging this to end. Several sets of eyes fell on you--not an unfamiliar feeling, but surely anxiety-inducing in this setting.

“Who is  _ that _ ?” Loki pointed at you with a long finger. Silence met him swiftly.

“Your competition,” you replied. “At least, I think?”

The laughter that erupted from Loki was not particularly reassuring. You hadn’t expected him to be sweet about how pitiful you looked compared to him. “This--this is what I'm up against? I'm meant to worry about  _ you _ replacing me? What can she possibly do?” He was toggling speaking to the Avengers and you, making you feel smaller with every line. You tried to cut in with a pronoun correction at the very least, as if he'd fucking care, but Banner spoke first.

“Now listen,  _ puny god _ ,” Banner laid down with a good dose of vitriol and emphasis on the phrase 'puny god’--some kind of inside joke, you assumed? “She--her--this individual is very strong and was selected for a reason and, uh, their pronouns are they, and anyway,” holy shit this was getting weaker the more he tried to speak for you but it was so sweet seeing him try, “you're going to be respectful of.. them.” You stared as he came to an unsteady halt in his defending and something in you was charmed by his attempt, as bad as it was. Perhaps you could help him understand better later.

“Points for trying, Bruce,” a woman chimed in before the ensuing silence became too awkward. 

“ _ I'm _ going to respect  _ that _ ,” Loki repeated. His eyes danced with pure entertainment. Was it better or worse for him to drop your humanity and call you ‘that’ versus misgendering you? Eh.

“Brother,” Thor said a little roughly, “I know you would like to be a part of all this.” Loki snorted in a way that told you he didn't really give a shit about being an Avenger. “ _ You do. _ I know you want to be free to walk around and respected, but to even contend you need to prove you care about the people of earth. Your competition is a good place to start.”

Thor was surprisingly sweet about this--you were unsure of how close their brotherly bond could be, all things considered, but he seemed to genuinely mean for the best here. Your eyes fell back on Tight-Pants-Twink-God. He was staring at Thor for a long moment before he turned his gaze directly to you; you faltered, looking away before glaring back. He smirked. Your face immediately scrunched up in response, because what the fuck was he smirking for? Wow, this room was quiet. You cleared your throat.

“Well, you haven't introduced yourself to me, so I hardly have a person to respect,” Loki remarked, beginning to unstrap some sort of medical device from his arm. Had they been taking his blood pressure? Did he  _ have _ a blood pressure? The assistant (did they call them Lyssa?) assisted him with surprisingly little fight from Loki. Freed, he stood up and strode confidently towards the screen as Banner let it up. There was no longer a screen between you; you wondered if it had actually protected you in the first place.

He was holding his hand out. “Well?”

“Well,” you responded, staring at his hand. With great care, you lifted yours and shook his. “My... name is Lum DeVico. You can call me Mx. DeVico,” fuck this was the speech you gave Stark, “or just Lum. My pronouns are they/them/theirs.”

“And if any of this confuses you, they'd be happy to engage in  _ polite discussion _ of nonbinary identity,” Stark finished, snorting. You winced. He can’t just be in on a joke he doesn’t even get!

Loki was looking down at you--he was exceptionally tall--and you were secretly pleased with the confusion that seemed to be displayed on his features. He didn't know what the fuck you were saying and, well? That felt like a win, for how harshly he spoke at first. You were still holding each others hands for just a hair too long, and you quickly retracted your hand. He snorted. Did he just trick you into playing hand-shaking chicken and win? The bitch! 

“I'll be returning to my quarters now, everyone, and I promise not to cause  _ too _ much trouble tonight,” Loki announced, sliding past you and snapping for Lyssa to escort him, you assumed. Banner followed suit. How much freedom did he have around here? You supposed you would find out.

You were still looking down at your hand when you were nudged to head out. You followed the group as they led you to your first meal followed by introduction to your own 'quarters.’ 

At the end of the day, you sat on your new bed. The entire interaction with Loki left you feeling bizarre. You'd watched him flip from absolutely trashing you to shaking your hand, silently laughing at you (you think), and then leaving. What was his angle? Was that him actually warming up to your presence, or was this the beginning of some mindgame to scare you out of this? The likely answer was a little of both, with the exact ratio swinging wildly in the wind of your anxiety. You exhaled, loudly, and situated your medications in this new bathroom. Mood stabilizer, some iron, one tablet of melatonin, and it was time to prep for whatever tomorrow holds. 

You don't like being belittled. 

You’re  _ going _ to be the next Avenger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short, I'm trying to get my bearings here, apologies! I wanted to knock them meeting out of the way and figure out what I want to happen next.
> 
> Some notes: I worried about bringing up the gender thing too much before going, "Fuck it, this is literally pertinent to every waking moment of MY life and this is MY story so y'all can live." If it seems like it's excessive just.. imagine what my life is like introducing myself to people. Continuing on the note of the gender thing, YES Loki is genderfluid in this, but his confusion is at the words that Lum is using. He doesn't have words or specific pronouns for his identity because he doesn't expect people to/doesn't care if people understand anyway.
> 
> ANYWAY feel free to comment! And if you prefer tumblr feel free to message me there, also at angelfishinamerica! I want more Loki friends.


	3. Frothy Caffeine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee costs money. So do secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! So, because I imagine someone at some point will say something about the switching of tenses between past and present being kinda weird and inconsistent, it's something I have chronically struggled with. If anyone has any resources or advice on this that's super appreciated.
> 
> Also, it's been a bit of a struggle situating this in the MCU timeline. Decidedly, this is post Ragnarok, but the Asgardian ship makes it to Earth. Infinity War will maybe happen but way later on if I decide to face that heartbreak. Again, because I can.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tension is something of an inevitability in this situation. You expected that, and it wasn’t as if you’d never felt pressure from a fellow job candidate before. Usually, though,  _ usually, _ it was more like a group interview to prove you know all the BOGO deals at a store in the mall. This was different. Distressingly different. Out of your depth different. You knew you were a shapeshifter, you knew you were at least capable enough to be specifically placed in this position, and you knew that you had at least the drive to survive three years of a college degree so far, which in America was saying something. That was still (perhaps!) less experience than Loki had.

Still, you went through the trainings they demanded and the trainings they encouraged. The latter was begrudgingly, but you knew you should make a good impression, and overachieving was something you had plenty of experience with in school. In a way, you were trying to make this more attractive to yourself, to prove to  _ yourself _ that you wanted it, to give you drive for something. It would pay good, it was… maybe stable, and you didn't have any current plans for your career post-graduation. Okay, no, it definitely wasn't stable. This is like the least stable thing you've ever considered, and you're an artist. Why were you doing this, again? You'd be surrounded by attractive people, that's always fun.

Also, it was a week or so into this job and you finally processed that you had not seen Captain America, which was weird, but you didn't want to ask for fear of looking silly. Maybe he was like, on a higher tier than Stark? 

Or maybe that headline you saw a while back about Captain America being a fugitive was  _ not _ a satire article… You were admittedly not as great at keeping up with news as you tried to pretend to be here, and it had seemed 100% like an article out of The Onion that Captain America, spitting image of USA white masculinity, would be a fugitive. 

Nah. Couldn't be real.

Anyway. Today was your first mission. You were going in with pretty low expectations because Stark had been fucking with you all week and if you had seen any movies in your lifetime involving tough bosses and new employees, which you had, you were about to get sent on a coffee run.

Loki, on the other hand, seemed to take this seriously; maybe that was just his demeanor. He didn't seem to find a lot of humor in anything, and every smile was at someone else's expense. You wondered if he had always been like that, in his lifespan that was already longer than you could comprehend, or if it was a recent development. Nevertheless, you were being sent out together to test your teamwork or something like that.

Stark looked you both over, a slip of paper between his index and middle finger. He started to hand it to Loki, who was extending his hand, before swiftly placing it in yours.

“Really?” Loki practically spat. If he spits, is it venom? You weren't sure what all he could do. Probably not out of the realm of possibility.

“Sorry, gotta trust the kid here. If someone here knows how to navigate NYC, it isn't you.” You've gotten used to him calling you kid. Probably safe to assume he says that to anyone without wrinkles.

“I can figure it out,” Loki insisted, trying to win a game that no one's really playing.

“Cool,” you replied. “You can help me figure it out while we're in the elevator then.” Loki’s lip curled up just a little--just enough that it's clearly an instinct he's trying to curb. You look at Stark, who nods, and turn to enter the elevator once more.

The door closes; the ride is slow.

“You don't have to look at me with such contempt, you know.”

“I'm not.”

“Oh, I can feel it.” You know this conversation will go nowhere, but you can't stop yourself from continuing as you pull out your phone to punch in the address to Maps.  “I know we're competition, but I'm almost entirely sure the only thing that has me standing a chance over you is the fact that I'm not a known menace to society.” You're stepping out of the elevator on the ground floor, and your shitty phone service won't load. There's a ride outside waiting for you to give them the address, but you feel like you'd be an idiot to not check this out on your own. Frankly, the act of you giving a slip of paper to the ride seems an unnecessary step, which is probably an intended element of ridiculousness here. “If you were, like, a nice fuckin’ person, I bet you'd land this over me in a heartbeat.”

“I am not nice.”  _ Shit, alright, Skeletor.  _ “I will not compromise myself to win the affections of the Avengers. I don't even wa--”

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, cutting him off as you slide into the car. You hand the slip to the driver as Loki pointedly leaves as much distance between your seating as possible. You do not notice immediately, as your eyes are glued to your phone screen. “He's sending us to--” but you are forced to look up at a sudden interruption.

“Hello, Lum, Reindeer Games, and welcome to your first mission as applicant members of the Avengers Initiative.” The voice is synthetic, and no face is on the projection that displays while the car starts. Loki bristles at the name addressing him and you only wish you understood whatever context it must have. The robo-voice prattles on with vague non-details until two words appear on the screen. They read: “MISSION: LAUNDRY” with more words appearing below to detail the items you will be picking up. 

You can feel Loki's rage fit to burst. “He's. He's sending me as his  _ errand boy? _ I’m, this, he wants me to pick up his  _ SUITS? _ ”

Your head has already fallen back in laughter by this point. Not a coffee run, but damn close to it. You knew this shit would happen and you are absolutely reveling in Loki's fury. _ God, yes, get pissed _ , you think.  _ Set this car ablaze. _ If he goes nuts on the first mission, either you survive and win by forfeit, or you die and don't have to deal with any of this shit anymore. Win-win, honestly. 

Wait, shit, he's yelling at you.

“...and you just sit here and laugh? You find this funny? Do you realize how he demeans me? Who I am?”

“Oh my god, Jesus, it's not that big of a deal. We're the fresh meat and he's making us do some simple shit for him, Loki.”

“He's  _ mocking _ us. You, I don't care if he mocks you, but I am not meant to be treated like this.” Oof. Gotta demean you at some point, you suppose.

“First of all, you're not any better than me,” you say, and he looks ready to blow again at the very suggestion, but you hold a finger up to command attention, “and second of all, this is a classic power play. I would've been surprised if he gave us a  _ real _ first mission. We just have to pick up his dry cleaning and bring it back. If you want to back out, you do that while I get the job and they eject you back into space or some shit.” 

Loki scowls, beginning to pop off once more, when he is interrupted by the driver. The driver, who you realize is a man named Happy. “Ladies, settle down, please.” He makes eye contact with you through the rear view mirror and almost skids off the road upon realizing what he's said. “I mean, men--geez, I don't know, just settle down. DeVico is right. This is some standard nonsense, and if you can't handle this you're sure as hell not gonna land this job.”

“Thank you,” you say, after a beat. Loki looks frustrated, but is digesting the information. The rest of the ride is silent, which is fine. You have twitter notifications to catch up on.

“Alright, kids, go do your job,” Happy says as the car stops. You swing out of the car contentedly while Loki grumbles his way out.

It's a small shop. You suppose Stark likes supporting small businesses from time to time, which is sweet or whatever. Your hand is almost on the door to pull it open when Loki speaks.

“You're really just going to do this for him?” Sigh.

“Yes,  _ Loki _ . This really is not nearly as big a deal as you want it to be. Are you always like this?” 

He falters before following you in. Did you just win an argument with him? You go to the counter, make small talk as you pick up the order. Loki is silent, though whether it's from rage or actually digesting what you said is beyond you. You're trying to ignore him, really. Every time you look at him you see a mixture of Exactly My Type and Little Bitch Syndrome. Many would argue that the second is a part of the first, and you'd fight them in a great effort of theatrical futility. 

When you walk outside, holding several suits that Loki is making absolutely no effort to help you with, you see no car. What do you see is a text from an unknown number saying, “Have to handle a situation back at the building. Call a cab or someone will be there in an hour.” You squint at this, because NOW you actually feel like you're being fucked with. It took exactly five minutes for you to walk in and out of that building. Disgruntled, you look to your left and see a similarly small café; you'll make the best of this.

“Well, apparently waiting five minutes was too long. They'll pick us up in an hour unless you want to pay for a ride back. I'm getting coffee.” You're annoyed by the scenario, but kind of living for how much every step of this mission pisses off Loki. 

With five suits dangling over your back, held only by two fingers hooked around the hangers, you step into the café. It's cute and simple, reminding you of literally every café you've ever been in. You smile at the baristas and order whatever sugary iced coffee sounds yummiest. When you ask Loki if he wants anything, he ignores you, so you get him a cappuccino and sit down across from him at a window table. You hang the covered suits over the chair and offer him his drink.

“I don't recall permitting you to sit with me.”

“On earth, we say thank you.” You think you hear someone laugh quietly, but ignore it.

“I don't say thank you for things I didn't ask for.”

“Yeah, well you look tired so I was making a peace offering. What's your damage?”

He squints at you as he picks up the cappuccino with slow, slender hands. “Most recently, or would you like the whole list?”

“Jesus, Hot Topic, calm down.” He does not understand the reference and you're fine with that. “Give me the most recent, since you're feeling so generous right now.” He looks just slightly taken aback at your actual interest.

“Let's see. I discovered I had a sister and she promptly threatened me and all of my people, almost slaughtered us, destroyed Thor's hammer, and I had to spark the apocalypse, leaving my people without a home.”

You almost spit out your coffee and choked a bit. “I'm sorry, you  _ had _ to spark the apocalypse?” 

“Of course you wouldn't understand,” he groaned.

“No, I think that's a reasonable level of confusion for me to have, for you to--”

“Ask Thor about it, then,” he said abruptly, and you realized he was looking right past you at this point. “I've no interest in continuing this.”

“What are you looking at--” you start, turning your head as well. He snaps his fingers abruptly and you jolt your head back to him, chiding yourself internally for being such a goddamn bottom. “What's behind me?”

“You're horribly inexperienced at espionage,” he mutters.

“You say that like you're not staring directly at whatever the hell is behind me. What are you looking at?”

“Captain America is across from us.”

“Wait, shit, really?” You start to turn your head again, this time Loki actually grabs your head and turns you back towards him. No one has touched you in a non-combat-training way in a while, and your welcomeness to the touch startles you more than the touch itself.

“ _ Horribly _ inexperienced,” he repeats, but he's looking at you now, at least. “That's not a good thing. An ex-Avenger being in the same place as us spells ill will.” His voice is low.

“Wait, ex?”

“Do you actually do any research, or do you just show up to jobs and hope for the best?”

“Mostly show up and hope for the best, if we're being honest.”

“I can tell. Follow me,” he orders, standing up to leave. You scramble to follow. 

“Your cappuccino!” you protest.

“I am not concerned with frothy caffeine right now, DeVico.”

“Jesus, fine, that's the last time I spend $3 on you, bitch,” you grumble, struggling to hoist the suits back up. Loki heaves a loud sigh and picks them up, hurrying out. “Oh, now he helps.” You start to make your way out, pausing only when you make eye contact with the man that is absolutely Captain America. You falter; for some reason you thought Loki was bullshitting you. The Captain smiles just slightly and nods, taking a sip of his own coffee. You nod back breathlessly, booking it out of there.

“What took you so long?”

“We saw each other. Were we supposed to see him? Should we tell Stark?”

“Most likely not, and  _ absolutely _ not.”

“Wait, what?”

“I haven't been on Midgard in a while, but I know enough. He is not on good terms with the Avengers, or your government at large, and was absolutely scoping me out.” He holds the suits easily, scouring the street for Happy’s return. 

“What, you think he wants you?”

“Wants me dead, perhaps. I've caused a problem or two on Earth, you might recall.” 

“Just a few.” Pause. “I'm not great at keeping secrets.”

“Change that if you want this job. Start by viewing it.. less as a secret and more neglecting to mention a detail.”

“Something you have experience with, I imagine?” you ask. He looks at you, an odd glint in his eye, and you realize he's smiling at you.

“A bit. When is my ride arriving?”

You roll your eyes, pulling up your phone to see a “5 min” text from Happy. “ _ Our _ ride will be arriving shortly.”

“You kids have fun?” Happy asks when you get in the car. He absolutely does not care about the answer. Loki is back to being a moody, quiet bitch, anyway, and you fight not to laugh at his silence. 

“Oh yeah, oodles of it. When's dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE INCH EVER CLOSER TO THEM ACTUALLY KISSING. I've already written the bulk of chapter 4, but this just felt like the right stopping point for now. The chapters will probably get longer as time goes on; it's short snippets of exposition right now.
> 
> Side note: At first when I started planning this fic like, two months ago, I was steadfast on Lum being only with Loki and maybe Bruce. I've been watching a lot of the MCU lately though and I'm wanting to smooch up a whole bunch of people. Is there anyone you'd like to see Lum with? The only one that is probably a no is Thor because I don't want to even think about sibling dynamics there and Doctor Strange, not because I don't like him, but I MAY have an OC that I accidentally created specifically to be with him. So maybe I'll write them at some point. Who knows.
> 
> TOODLES HOES


	4. Helpful Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You would fault Thor for being so awkward if you yourself weren't even worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mild daddy kink joke in here! Those will probably happen sometimes. Lum continues to be, well, all of us.

There was something jarring about that mission. You told Stark it went well, and either your lying was better than you thought, or he assumed you were just skittish from inexperience. You had been content with the idea of it being a petty errand to break you into probably being his bitch. Loki could bitch all he wanted, but you were just fine with simple tasks. But seeing Captain America… It shook you. Because no, you hadn't seen him in the week you'd been around, and you took him to be busy. Loki made you realize that he really was a fugitive, and you'd done a piss poor job of paying attention to the news. It was time to play catch-up.

You started by gleaming Google for information. You did not have the confidence or skill to try to get into Tony’s--Stark’s, you mean Stark’s, don't get too familiar with your boss--files or any kind of records. You've done many things in your short life span, but hacking was not one of them. Besides, you resided in a pocket of the internet that was pretty good at uncovering enough general info on these topics, and social media fucking delivered.

Steven Rogers, Captain America, WWII war mascot and hero, frozen until recently, blah blah blah cool okay whatever you know this, refused to sign on to a newly government regulated Avengers, something something man named James Buchanan Barnes seen, something something defended this terrorist, something other man was found guilty, Barnes disappeared, as did Captain America, something… Shit, you should've been more on top of this. College really swallowed you. When a Norse god is more up to date on current events than you, there might be a problem.

You slouched back on the couch and mused on this. The current status of the Avengers seemed to be more in the air than you had realized. You were never a huge fan of the government; who exactly was your higher authority right now? Why did you never learn to read fine print? Why did you--

“Lum!” Thor barked, clapping his hand on your shoulder from behind the couch. You shrieked as your phone clattered to the ground and you scrambled to pick it back up. Thor sounded apologetic as he rounded the couch to sit down and continued, “Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you! I was only wondering how things went with my brother.” 

You swiped out of your current tabs and clicked off your phone's display in order to give him your attention. “It was.. fine, I guess? I mean, he didn't outright threaten me, which was nice enough.” This made Thor laugh. 

“He doesn't really do that!” A beat. “Not too often. Not always. Well, I mean, at least he doesn't hate you. He probably doesn't really like you if he's not threatening you, but you're in the middle ground where he doesn't care about you, I'd guess.”

“Thank.. you?”

“You're welcome! I mean--let me start again. I came to ask because that was the first time he's been allowed out of the facility.” You quirked a brow; he kept talking. “Well, between you and me, I'm sure he's capable of sneaking out, but that was the first time where it was, well, you know, a 'thing.’ I just wanted to know if he was.. Mm. Behaved?” 

Something about the way Thor spoke was incredibly charming. You got the sense that he genuinely cared for Loki, which was surprising, a little alarming, and above all, sweet. Loki seemed like a piece of work, but we all need someone to look out for us. You realized that you were thinking too long and needed to reply.

“He was, uh, well, he was Loki? He seemed well behaved, for what little I know. He wasn't threatening. Wasn't much of a team player, but he smiled at me at one point?”

Looking slightly impressed, Thor nodded. “Not bad! Definitely doesn't hate you if he smiled. Unless you were fighting. Were you fighting?”

“No..?”

“Excellent! Doesn't hate you.”

Silence. Thor began to get up when you suddenly waved for him to stay seated, scooting a little closer.

“Hey, uh, listen. I've got a question. Loki mentioned something about.. a sister, and apocalypse, your people, I didn't fully understand. Are you guys okay?”

“He said that?”

“Yes. Uh. Wait, was he just messing with me?”

“No, no, he--he wasn't. That's the thing. Perhaps he assumed you already had some knowledge?” _ Nah, he definitely knows I'm a dumbass _ , you comment in your mind. “Well, either way, no, he wasn't messing with you. It's a bit difficult to explain, but.. our family is a bit complicated. We lost our mother a few years ago, and then he died, or I thought he did, he does that sometimes, little shit, but anyway he was pretending to be our father, but then we found our actual father, who he put in a wrecked retirement home--he didn't know, he says, what kind of idiot doesn't--that’s not the point. We find our actual father, or mine, he's adopted, it's this whole thing, but father dies, and our sister appears as the prophecy foretold, and she's very not happy, all black and green and lots of  _ horns _ , and she's trying to take over Asgard, but we have to start Ragnarok and destroy Asgard so she can’t have it, but Asgard is wherever our people are, but anyway she died, just like father and mother and Loki, twice,  _ asshole _ , but he's alive right now, and so are our people, you see. Does that make sense?”

What. “Not in the slightest, but thank you for trying.”

Thor chuckles. “Family matters, you know how it goes. Point is, we've been through a lot recently. It's good that he's talking about it! And better that he's behaving. You know, not that I want you to fail on your quest for this position or anything, but it would be much better for me if he gets it.”

God, it's like everything is vaguely an insult, you don't even know where to start. You don't think he even intends it. “I, thank you, I guess.”

Hearty but awkward laughter from Thor. He claps his hand on your shoulder again. “Yes! Well. Time to get going to do some important god of thunder things. See you, Lum!” And he was gone. 

What a conversation. What a person. This extended application process was interesting, if nothing else. You stew in awe of him as well as your recent discovery of current events you should've already known about before setting off to your next destination.

\--

“Loki, I know you're in there.”

Silence. You knock again.

“Well, you might not be in there. But I think you probably are because I never see you anywhere else.”

Silence followed by yet another hesitant knock-knock. 

You hadn't expected a  _ whole _ lot to come from knocking on Loki's door when your only interaction had been meeting each other (bad) training sessions (a range of bad to alright), and that mission (lukewarm at best). It didn't hurt to try, though, right? You had questions that you didn't think Thor could answer. Questions that Stark  _ wouldn't _ answer, that would catch Rhodey or Vision or Banner off guard. Loki was obviously enough of a conniving, sleuthing bitch to be updated on the Avengers fallout despite not having been on Earth since the New York catastrophe.

Banner was probably your best shot at someone who both might know and might answer, though, so you settled for that.

\--

“Hello?”

“Wh--oh. Oh! Hello. DeVico. Lum. Hi, geez. I wasn't sleeping.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright, maybe a little,” he says, scratching his head sheepishly. Cute. He was obviously older, but he seemed to have the emotional experience of a high schooler. “It’s been a long week. What'd you need, exactly?”

“I've got some questions.” You didn't specify, waiting to see how he would react.

“Questions. Okay…? What kind of questions? I haven't been on Earth in a while, so keep in mind I might not be your guy depending on the questions. I find that I'm not usually the guy.”

_ You can be my guy _ , your inner flirt says, to no avail. He's cute, but that's not gonna get you anywhere right now. He's probably married. With a subtle but distinct blink you snap back into it. “That's okay. How updated are you on the Avengers in the past few years?”

“Well, like I said, not very.”

“Yeah, I figured that. Worth a shot though,” you muttered. You didn't want to reveal too much of the situation. He seemed trustworthy, but also like he was up Stark's ass, which might negate that. Trying not to cut the conversation suspiciously short, you glanced around at his desk. Then, seeing his plaque, asked, “What's your degree?” He looked a little perplexed; whether it was to the nature of your question or its relevance to the Avengers that confused him was anyone's guess. “Like in school. You've got a doctorate, right?”

“Right! Right. Well, a lot of things. I've got seven PhDs. Various sciences.”

“Wait, shit,  _ seven _ ?”

“Yeah. What, you don't?” he laughs, and seeing the wrinkle of his eyes as he smiles and jokes is sweet. You decide to play along, sitting down and leaning in.

“Well, no. Shockingly, at 22, I'm still working on my bachelor's.”

“Yeah, I  _ guess _ that's reasonab--you’re 22?!” He chokes a bit as he says that, setting his mug of coffee down a little too roughly. 

“Yeah, what, you're not?” you ask, trying to keep the joking tone going.

“I--no, god! Wow. Tony's getting them young. I mean, not that you look old, but I was guessing at least mid to late 20s.”

You grin, shrugging. “Not the first time I've heard that. I guess it gives me an edge in.. not getting carded as often? Though I'm not much of a drinker, so maybe it's wasted on me.”

“Nah, kid, there's more to life than drinking.. It's, I guess, it’s cool that you're getting a headstart on a career, if this counts as a career. It's work,” he says. You expect the sentence to go on but it doesn't, and his awkwardness returns. It is distressingly endearing, and you're trying to not do the Get Crushes On Everyone You Meet thing, especially when they're older men at work. 

But he's such a nonthreatening older man at work.

Tasty.

God, STOP IT.

“Why do you guys do that? I'm not a kid. I mean, I get it, I'm young, but kid sounds so condescending, like you're not taking me seriously.”

“I don't mean it like that! It's just.. instinct, kinda. I just feel old, it just comes out.”

“How old are  _ you _ then?”

“Well that's a rude question! I'm old enough. To be your dad, probably.”

“To be my daddy,” you mumble; you have not gotten used to differentiating this place from your usual friends. Your face goes red as he chokes again and you realize that you are  _ going _ to kill this dude at this rate.

“To be, I'm. I'm sorry,  _ what? _ ”

“To be my.. I said to be my baddy. It's kid’s talk. To be my friend. Like you're so bad you're cool and obviously I want to know cool people, right.”

“I don't think that's what you..”

“ _ And obviously I want to know cool people, right _ ,” you repeat quickly, feeling death upon you. “I. God, I'm sorry, I gotta go. I just talk like that. Sorry! See you!” And you are  _ out _ of there like a bullet. 

Bruce watches you leave with his mouth open, cradling his cup of coffee. He looks down at the mug. “Did I hear that right? That didn't really happen. … Is my hearing bad? I'm not that out of touch with slang, am I?” Sighing, he brings the mug back to his lips and nurses coffee that has been lukewarm for an hour now.

You tried to ask Bruce’s lab assistant on the way out, having become somewhat familiar by now, but Lyssa spoke only empty words. You were getting used to that from her. You had briefly considered actually attempting some sleuthing, but as if sensing your inexperienced desire to snoop from a mile away, Stark had appeared and called you in for some target practice, since, you know, shapeshifting was cool but didn’t necessarily pack a punch. 

That all led into you being invited to the group dinner, except group dinner never had a complete group of people. Bruce was there, quiet and casual in a loose button-down and slacks, and Thor would never turn down food. Loki was unsurprisingly and quite characteristically  _ not _ there, while Stark, the lucky heterosexual he was, had a dinner date with his wife, fiancée, whatever, though it sounded like they were tense right now. Rhodey had his own plans which were much less descript, and Vision… doesn’t eat. Vision  _ is _ usually the one prepping the food, however, which is apparently much better than it used to be, but is still about as good as you’d expect from someone who doesn’t eat.

This whole thing was supposed to build team morale, and you're not even sure who actually proposed it, but it wasn't working too well right now. It seemed, perhaps, a tradition from the team’s better days. For you, right now, it was just an awkward encounter with Bruce, lessened somewhat by Thor's loud chewing and discussion of today’s mundane activities. You're positive that he can sense the lack of social chemistry at the table right now, but that's the powerful thing about Thor: he just keeps on talking anyway. Well, the muscles and god stuff are also pretty powerful, but so is his ability to bulldoze through social barriers, even when it might create more.

“Lum! Tell us more about yourself.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! We know little outside of your shapeshifting and general athletics,” Thor said. You fight not to laugh at his use of the word athletics, because it is not a word you would use to describe yourself. You’ve been pushing yourself hard for these trainings, but you suppose it’s paying off. “What do you.. Do?”

“Oh, uh, a lot of stuff. Not as much now that I’m here. I like art? I draw and sew and I think I’m decent at it. I spent all of my free time on school and art up until coming here.”

Bruce looked up with interest. “What are you studying in school, Lum?” he asked.

You’re almost positive he could see the color drain from your face. This was it. The art major versus the seven time STEM major. You, the feeble theatre artist against the accomplished daddy-age scientist. Your life hangs in the balance on this moment; his respect for you may disappear. You open your mouth slowly.

“Oh, uh, I’m studying theatre.”

“Oh, that’s really interesting!” Bruce exclaimed, and you sensed no hidden malice in his words. Oh, that was easier than you expected. You should’ve known better, he’s been gentle at every other moment you’ve spoken. Anxiety be damned.

“Oh! Well, I mean. Yeah, it’s pretty interesting. A lot of people don’t take it very seriously as a major, but it’s a lot of interesting stuff. You study history, you learn how to act, you learn basic sewing skills, how to build things, a lot of communication skills… I dunno, I just really like theatre.”

Thor was chewing slower and looked pensive, you noticed. You shifted your attention slowly towards him as he said, “That does make a bit more sense now.”

“What does?”

“About Loki. He quite enjoyed theatre on Asgard.” You and Bruce both almost choked. “He did! You know, Lum, I mentioned earlier when he pretended to be our father, he made this whole play. It was about himself, of course. He’s very vain. But I think he wrote it and directed it, hell, he probably would’ve been in it if he wasn’t undercover.”

“I never took Loki to enjoy things,” you said, rather bluntly. Thor chuckled.

“He does! He just doesn’t show it. He’s good at all the things you talked about except the communication, he doesn’t socialize very well.”

“How incredibly shocking,” and your voice was a little dryer than you intended. You could tell Thor was trying to determine the difference between sarcasm and genuine, if disinterest, surprise. He seemed to figure it out.

“Sarcasm,” he said, pointing his fork at you, which you were surprised he was even using, to be honest. “You and he are not that different, Lum. Is it a shapeshifting thing?”

This time you really choked. Bruce, across from you, was laughing quietly. “With all due respect, Thor, I find us pretty different.”

“Yes, well, you  _ are _ about a thousand years younger, and less experienced and strong, and lie less, and also have killed less, but--”

“Thor, I haven’t killed at all.”

“There’s always time for future battles and victories, you’re young,” he said, and you  _ think _ he’s joking but you can’t even tell anymore. “Like I was saying, you both, you know… do theatre, very dry, you wear a  _ lot _ of black, also. You’re going for the same position, but that goes without saying.”

“What you’re saying is we’re both goth.”

“Sure!” There is almost silence again, except for Bruce’s quiet laughter. 

“This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, but it so  _ is _ . Just this whole thing. Just--I mean, you know,  _ Loki _ , just hearing about him like a normal, casual, generally harmless person, and you protesting being like him, and it’s all so.. Normal.” He took another bite of his food, chewed, thought. “I guess anything feels normal after being the other guy for so long, and then a spaceship, and.. everything.” 

“I’ve never been called normal,” you admit, “but I’ll take it. I guess I’m probably pretty normal compared to all that.” You were smiling, and he smiled back, and your heart swelled.

“Lum, show us some shapeshifting!” The casual demand from Thor was hilarious, but him enjoying party tricks wasn’t a surprise, and you were happy to oblige. Dinner went surprisingly smooth after that, with the two of them making requests and you doing your best to keep up as you all ate and laughed, and you thought to yourself that maybe group activities weren’t so bad, not with these two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to get the hang of this story! I don't fully know where I'm going with it still, but y'know how it goes. Also, I got another commission of Lum and Loki that I might link if people want to see! It will definitely be going on my tumblr at some point.


	5. Gender Is A Construct And So Is Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonding, FINALLY.

You are absolutely delighted to find Loki snooping. You didn't immediately realize that's what he was doing when you entered the library, and he was surprisingly deep in it. That, or he was pointedly ignoring you. Either way, you walked back out.

And walked a little further down the hall.

Then you do your shapeshifty little thing and crawl very quickly back into that room as an adorable tiny spider. You didn't have anything better to do, and Loki was, for all you knew, still evil. So hey, maybe you're saving the world. Also, snooping on someone snooping? _So_ _meta._ You're into it.

You start off on the ceiling, trying to scope out what he's looking at. The ceiling is a little high though, so you crawl back down and get on the shelf next to him. Your guess that Loki wasn’t the type to kill an insect that wasn’t actually in his way proved correct. You supposed this was good, because he could kill you easily in this form. Squinting your lil’ spider eyes, you discover he is looking at something about the Accords, which you recall reading about when you searched for the hot dish on Captain America. Is he still snooping on that?

After a while he sighs and closes the file he's viewing and you realize he's setting off somewhere else. You quickly crawl down and scramble after him, jumping into his shoe. Walking with Loki is weird; he moves quickly and with purpose so you struggle to not get just a little nauseous. He's making his way down the halls, and--towards an exit? Oh shit. Oh shit he's not supposed to leave. Doesn't an alarm ring if he goes outside? He makes it through. Somehow. You think he's feigning some kind of ID, but either way, you are outside the compound and on the streets, panicking with eight small legs clinging to Loki's shoe--and then he stops.

“DeVico.” That's weird. Is he talking to you? He doesn't know you're there. “DeVico, remove yourself from my shoe.” Aw shit, maybe he does. You remain still with fear and embarrassment at being caught.

You hear him sigh, again, and realize he is reaching down to squash you. Panicking, you shapeshift back to your proper self, sprawled at his feet and putting your arms up as protection, eyes squeezed shut. Nothing happens, and slowly, you open your eyes to meet his.

“You look absolutely pitiful.”

“You were gonna kill me!” you yelp defensively, rolling over and getting to your feet.

“Perhaps you shouldn't have spied on me in such an _easily_ killable form.” He fidgets with the cuffs of his suit jacket--why does he dress so formal all the time?--and squints. “Or at all. I could kill you still.”

You stop patting off your leggings to raise your hands again. “Hey, hey, hey! That's not fair. You're, like, a criminal! Or you were, and I was just making sure you didn't do anything bad!”

“What exactly did you think I was doing?”

“Well... I don't know. But I assumed it was something bad, especially since you're _sneaking_ _out of the compound,_ which I should go tell Stark about right now!” You snapped, crossing your arms.

“Lower your voice,” he hisses and you scrunch your face up at the order. “Believe it or not, I'm _not_ doing anything bad this time.” You must not look very convinced because he continues with a more diplomatic tone. “I was looking into the situation we encountered last week--I want to know what _he_ was doing there. That's no coincidence.”

“Why didn't you tell someone else?”

“Yes, DeVico, because I am _so trusted_ on this team. They trust me about as far as they can throw me, if that. However they would react would be worthless.” He looks at the base to the left of him. “If I can gather information on this on my own and present something worthwhile, perhaps it will put me into the Avengers’ good graces.”

“So you're trying to one-up me!”

“I--is _that_ what you got out of that?”

“I mean… kinda? I'm trying to get a job here. And if you're going somewhere I want in.”

“Were you not just stating we’re at odds with each other?”

“I mean--yes! But I still don't trust you totally, and if you leave without me I'll tell, and.. I'm bored?” You end on a question. Geez, that came out weaker than you wanted.

“A compelling argument,” Loki responds, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He shuts his eyes for a moment, clearly contemplating his choices, then groans. “You can come if you look less conspicuous.”

“Yes, because _you_ don’t look suspicious at all,” you retort, shifting into his own current form to land your point.

“All black is subtle!”

“Sure, some black is subtle! Black suit, black shirt, _and_ black tie sticks out like a sore thumb, but what I meant is that people know your _face_.” Loki scoffs at that, and you raise your eyebrows. “Do you seriously think your picture hasn’t been all over the internet since you made your debut? Every few months I see a resurgence of cringe compilations of your fangirls sharing phone pictures and media coverage from that battle!”

“ _Volume_ !” he hisses again. He looks around a bit anxiously before saying, “I don’t even _know_ what half of those words meant, but fine, we’ll both change. Switch up and walk quickly.” With that, his appearance changed to that of a narrow woman with slightly longer, pulled-back hair and just a splash of gold in a more casual outfit. You stared at his new forms ass for a second before he glanced over his shoulder and you squeaked and shifted again and fell into step at his side.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you insist, now walking briskly with longer legs in the form of a 5’8-ish man, still with your usual undercut but now black rather than purple. Your purple relocated itself in the form of a t-shirt underneath a black vest, above dark jeans. You sure fucking hope security doesn’t reach too far past the compound that any cameras would’ve picked up that series of shifts between the two of you. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Where are we going? Also, how are you planning on getting there?”

“We’re obviously going back to where we last saw Captain America. Where else?”

“Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa, hold on, you do realize that’s five hours away, right? Like, we are in upstate New York, that was in the city, that was a long ride.”

“Time with pests tends to blend together.”

“Oh, you’re _so sweet,_ Loki. But I’m serious. We can’t just disappear for hours and expect no consequences. Can you even drive?”

If you had a dollar for every time you made Loki sigh, you’d feel pretty accomplished, and also not need this job. He looks irritated as he recalculates this plan of his, followed by a clone of his actual self splitting off from him and heading back towards the base. You begin to open your mouth, which he shuts down by saying, “A distraction.”

“Yeah, I figured, but why did you only make one of you?”

“Do I look particularly concerned with your survival here?”

“You never look particularly concerned with anything. Make one for me or I’m telling!” you snap. God, you sound like a brat. Loki squints at you. You can’t quite read him, but he looks pained by how obnoxious you’re being. You cross your arms to assert some sort of dominance; he rolls his eyes. Your own clone appears, following his and being _incredibly_ whiny as they head back inside. “I don’t sound _that_ awful!”

Smirking, Loki turns towards the garage. “I’ll take your admission of sounding awful at all as a victory.” This petty bitch. You hate that you love to banter with him.

Loki is scanning the vehicles in the garage before he comes to one with a key in the ignition. The oversight is too glaring to not be intentional, which proves to be true when you get in the car and he grimaces. Your eyes fall with Loki's on a note that says, “Don't do anything I wouldn't do! XOXO” and you cackle maniacally.

“Does Stark know you that well?”

“This isn't Stark,” he says as if the true answer is much worse. He does not respond to your quizzical look and presses on, “We're going to take the.. _blessing_ , though.” It is at this moment you realize Loki is in the driver’s seat.

“You didn't answer if you could, uh, drive. Do you have a license?”

He starts the car and pulls out of the spot. “Licenses are for mortals.”

“That's not how that works!” You panic, but he's already driving.

“Would you like to drive?” Loki asks, eyeing you quickly from his periphery as he cruises on out of the lot. You determine that he's at least practiced, because this can't be God Intuition.

“Well.. no, I don't have a license either--don't laugh at me! Buses are easier!” Your protest does nothing; Loki snorts at you and drives.

You huff and settle into the seat, skimming social media on your phone. The fingers in the form you chose are a bit clunkier than your own, but you're too stubborn to change anything in front of Loki, and resign yourself to fav'ing a few tweets you didn't mean to. After a few minutes you get bored and eye Loki as he drives--should you be using different pronouns right now? Why did he select this form? Can't hurt to ask.

“Hey, I've got a question.”

“That's nice,” says Loki. Asshole.

“Thanks. Why did you choose a feminine form?”

“Is it important?”

“I mean, maybe not in the grand scheme of things, but like, it makes sense to me that I'd choose a masculine form, 'cause I'm genderfluid and like to present like this sometimes. But you're, I mean, I assume you're a man, and--”

“Assumptions are rude, DeVico,” Loki says, very simply, eyes on the road.

“Well you make it hard to do anything but assume when you're such a snippy bitch all the time!” You're clutching your phone in frustration. Loki sighs. Another dollar in your imaginary bank.

“I don't owe anyone anything about my life, especially not an obnoxious Midgardian threatening to take my place.” Loki doesn't say anything else for a minute, but you feel something shift in the air when he speaks again. “Sometimes I like to be a woman. Sometimes--it’s--I don't feel entirely a man. Sometimes I'm...” As the sentence trails off, you can tell the words feel foreign in Loki's mouth, like this isn't a topic that's ever been broached.

“Sometimes you're fluid?” You finish the sentence tentatively.

“Fluid…” Loki says quietly, possibly involuntarily, mulling over the word. Silence falls and you feel a bit awkward.

“Look, I didn't mean to be invasive or anything--”

“No, it's. It's alright. Fluid is.. an acceptable term.”

You run your thumbs along the edges of your phone case, staring at the black screen. You press on the display; it's a little after noon. You've got a while to go. “You've never talked about this, have you, Loki?”

Pause. “It's never mattered.”

“Do you, uh, do you want me to call you, 'they,’ too?”

“No,” is the quick response. “It's not like that. I don't care what people call me. I've been called he for longer than I can remember. If I.. cared what people called me, I'd have far larger issues than a pronoun.” His face scrunched up and you imagine Loki has not been called the nicest things in the world. You're unsure if you should speak when he continues. “It's not, and I can promise you will _not_ like what happens if you tell anyone about this, but it's not horrible being able to speak about it with someone. Someone who.. understands what I mean.”

Talking about feelings with Loki is like pulling teeth, but you're incredibly invested in this conversation by now. You decide to risk sharing your own experience as a means of encouraging him.

“Talking to people is nice. I mean, I never realized I was allowed to feel like this till I started talking to people like me.” You quickly add, “And I know you hate me and I know saying I'm like you is probably a bold statement, but we have stuff in common, I think. So I'm just saying if you ever need to talk I'm, well, I'm willing to listen.”

“I don't--” he starts a sentence and stops it in the same breath, exhaling and moving on. Was he going to say he doesn't hate you? A very optimistic guess, but you could dream. “I don't understand your desire to reach out to me, DeVico. That being said, I've never had a need to muse on my identity in that manner. I've been a bit busier--you know, tricking people, attempting to conquer New York, generally being the family disappointment,” he finished with some sort of bitter amusement.

“I mean, I'm going to venture to say I have a slightly better moral track record, but I'm also a family disappointment, for what it's worth,” you offer, and he cracks a smile at this. “And you can call me Lum, you know. I don't call you Odinson.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous I am? What makes you want to be so chummy with me?”

“I dunno, danger's hot or something, and you actually don't seem horrible right now.”

“...Thank you? Regardless, _Lum_ ,” and you cheer internally at hearing your first name, “put on some music. You've spent my social meter for at least an hour. I'm going to trust whatever nonsense you listen to.”

You determine that Loki is incapable of being fully nice in any statement and take the compliment for what it's worth as you pull out a convenient aux cord. _Get ready for some Nicki, bitch,_ you think.

\--

At some point in the ride you dozed off and are pleased to find yourself still alive when you wake up. Well, waking up involves being alive, but the point is you’ve been in a moving vehicle operated by Loki for over an hour and you haven’t died. When you got in this car you sort of anticipated your swan song to be driving five hours to NYC with a gorgeous war criminal Norse god while Nicki Minaj’s “Chun-Li” blasts. But hey, always time to be proven wrong!

“You’re up,” you hear when you stir, and from a prettier voice than you’re used to, and you remember that you’re both shifted right now. You nod, rubbing your eyes below your glasses (praying the lenses don’t smudge, because you forgot your glasses wipe on this excursion) and looking up.

“How far out are we?”

“Farther than I’d like to be. I managed to use your phone to pull up navigation. Why do humans travel so slow? Also, you _really_ should put a lock on this.”

“First of all, fuck you, I have faith in the world--”

“Mistake,” he cuts in. He’s right. Eh.

“-- _Second_ of all I’m sorry that we don’t have rainbow bridges or god speed or whatever it is that _you’re_ used to--”

“‘ _God speed’_? Really?”

“Oh my god, bitch, I’m talking! What was I saying? Oh right.” You eye your phone sitting between your seats and see that Maps has you at about 46 minutes out. “More time for tunes.”

“Please, _no_.”

You stare straight ahead at the road, incredibly pleased, as you press play on  “Sexy Anime Boyz.” You cannot see Loki’s face but can only imagine the rage as the car goes _just a little bit faster_.

You realize you are speeding now and take mercy, switching to something your companion can tolerate.

“So are you expecting him to just be where we last saw him?”

“Well, no,” is the response you get, and you look over to see him making a calculated face as he examines his current form’s manicured fingers over the wheel. “I’m trying to determine why he was there and ask if he frequents the establishment. If he’s there a lot I’m willing to buy that it was coincidence, but something tells me he knew we were there.” You nod, preparing to ask a follow-up about what else would justify a trip this long, when Loki continues, “And let’s be honest. I’m tired of sitting in that shithole.”

Your laughter surprises you as much as his words do and you choke up. He glances at you. “I mean, same, but holy shit, you’re blunt.” Loki chuckles and keeps driving. Eventually you pull up to the coffee shop, and you vividly recall Loki’s frothy caffeine comment. Loki, ever tactful, goes right in and begins asking the barista about Captain America as vaguely as possible, while you order coffee for yourself to make the interaction a little more normal. You check your bank account casually to make sure you have enough for this in your overall weekly spending, wince because you totally don’t, and order anyway in the name of espionage.

Loki begins to leave after the interaction and you gently place a hand on his shoulder and guide him towards a table outside. “You criticize me for sucking at this, but it’s a _little_ weird to be in and out pestering them about this shit without at least being a patron.” You sit down and sip your frapp, taking in the view.

“Where is my coffee, then?”

“Huh?”

“If we have to be patrons, where is my coffee?”

“You.. didn’t order one.”

He looks at you as if you have inconvenienced him so, so horribly and you realize he expected you to order one for him. You make a noise of indignance. “Are you kidding me? Last time I bought you coffee here you didn’t finish it! You just threw it away! I said I wasn’t buying you anymore coffee.” He crossed his dainty little arms. “I’m not buying you coffee! Buy your own!”

“I don’t have money.”

“Are you fu--I mean I guess that makes sense since you’re not supposed to be going out, but you didn’t even think to swipe someone’s card before heading out?”

“Are you _encouraging_ me to steal, Lum?”

“N-no, I just, I’m encouraging you to fucking plan!” You’re waving your hands emphatically as you chide him when another patron walks by and tells you to chill out, she has a kid who doesn’t need to hear this kind of language. You sputter, “I’m-- _me?_ He’s.. she’s…” You breathe and say, “I’m sorry,” before glaring daggers at Loki, who is now looking incredibly pleased as he sips on your coffee. Enraged, you go to grab it back when he gets up and starts sauntering towards the car.

“Come on, DeVico, I don’t have all day. What do people do for fun in this abysmal place?”

As you both get into the car, you grumble, watching Loki set down your coffee. You grab it to drink again but find that only whipped cream remains, but slurp the contents anyway, loudly and furiously. That’ll show him.

“So uh,” you start, “I am not actually from New York, so I don’t know what people do here.”

“Do humans not generally just… do the same thing everywhere?”

“What exactly do you think humans do?”

“I don’t know. Exist aimlessly and await the sweet embrace of death?”

“Jesus. Uh, no, we do a lot of things. Whenever I’ve visited family in New York we’d.. Go see plays, eat good food, and other things that generally cost a lot of money. I’ve got about…,” and you glance at your bank app one more time, see the number, wince, “Fifty dollars to spend until Stark or financial aid decide to take mercy on my soul again.”

Loki looks pensive as he pulls the car into what you’re praying to be cheap parking. How did he learn to parallel park? You have accomplished friends who can’t even do that. He steeples his fingers and looks at you. “So... what you’re saying is we could do more things if we had more money.”

“Yes? That’s how money works.”

“And you don’t have more money, but other people do.”

“Yes.. Wait. No. Loki _no!!”_ You yell as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car, having no regard for the traffic he barely stops. You scramble to unbuckle your seatbelt and get out yourself, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him in, whispering viciously.  “We’re lucky enough that my phone isn’t already buzzing out of my pocket from them eventually realizing we’re gone. We are _not_ about to get caught,” you lower your voice, “ _stealing_. You said you’re not evil anymore.”

Someone bumps into you and Loki’s expression shifts instantaneously as he becomes incredibly apologetic and helps the person collect their things and get up. He also apologizes for how clumsy _you_ were and your blood boils, but you jump in to help as well. When the person is back on their way, Loki is already up and walking away. You go after him, continuing to tell him off, when you realize he is counting something.

Money.

“Did you steal from someone _as_ I was telling you not to steal?”

“They walked into _me_ , Lum. They near _begged_ me to take it.”

“You are… unbelievable. How much money is that?”

“About a hundred. I saw the quality of their clothes. They can afford it.” Loki sounds absolutely, entirely sure of himself. You sigh. The person has already long since walked past; chasing them down would cause more fuss than it’s worth.

“Alright, well, if we have a hundred bucks to kill, you’re buying me dinner,” you say, fighting yourself from looking at the adorably evil smile that spreads across his face. Theft is not a good time to find him attractive, even if he is a very sexy lady right now. The two of you walk a while before you find a promising pizzeria with seating; you’ve got tired leggies.

You manage to walk Loki through ordering pizza without giving away too much of his natural godly entitlement or general lack of human social knowhow to the cashier. He looks a bit disappointed when he sees the grease-slicked slice of heaven he’s given, but you talk him into eating it. You do end up finishing his slice, but he seemed to begrudgingly enjoy what he did eat, so you’ll accept it.

Once out of the parlor, you start walking off to your next aimless destination, chatting casually about something silly Thor did. Suddenly, you phone buzzes. You panic, feel relief when you see that it isn’t Stark, and then panic for an entirely different reason--it's a class reminder. You start fretting, mumbling, turning to remember which way the car is, knowing you wouldn’t get back in time.

“I’m late, I’m late, fuck I’m so late, I won’t get back in time--”

“You’re pretty late, yeah! Mr. Stark sounded pretty mad.”

You can’t even get a word of confusion out before you look up to see Spiderman hanging upside-down and two shots of web heading at the two of you. Happy Hogan, a few steps behind him, does _not_ look pleased. You and Loki act in unison for the first time as a quiet, “Shit,” escapes both of you.

 

\---------------------

BONUS:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! I had a serious lil writers block between chapter 4 and 5, I really wanted to start exploring Loki and Lum actually getting along. Also a bonus doodle that I did after I finished writing this! It is far from a polished masterpiece but I wanted to share what I was envisioning while I wrote this.
> 
> REGARDING PRONOUN CHOICES THIS CHAPTER: I chose to use he pronouns for Loki despite him being in a "female" form for a variety of reasons, among which are: 1) I get excited when people call me he while I'm presenting feminine, 2) I think it's an interesting atmosphere it creates to continue using he while referring to a feminine character (within the bounds of their identity), 3) I don't know much about comic Loki but from MCU Loki when I apply genderfluidity I imagine someone who is entirely unconcerned with pronouns, and 4) I do what I want! If you have issue with this, feel free to voice it to me, I am curious to hear other opinions. 
> 
> Writer's block is over for now and I am already working on chapter 6! See you next time!


	6. Fool.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as quickly as you manage to get close to Loki, you fall back apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be slightly more detailed description of Lum in this chapter! Saying that mostly because it makes the story become less generic and therefore either less or more relatable to you, the actual reader.

Stark is  _ not _ pleased when you see him. Happy had driven you back up to the base, Spider-Man in tow. He never shut the fuck up about how wild this was, how it's been such a long time since he was there, how cool it was to see Loki in person, besides, you know, “the terrorism thing.” He also asked a lot of hilariously ignorant questions about Norse mythology. Loki looked ready to die before you even reached halfway on this ride; Happy had reached that point before even entering the car, but perhaps Loki had still been in an adventurous afterglow. 

One thing you hated about this was the fact that you and Loki had actually been bonding. You learned that he felt something akin to your gender fluidity, though he was vastly less concerned with pronouns. You were also able to observe what you assume to be his comfortable feminine form, and--well, fuck, maybe he's not got the best track record, but the two of you proved to be surprisingly compatible throughout the day, and when people misgendered you in passing he didn't even blink at your frustration, somehow. You had lots of quick banter with each other, and he bought you pizza, even if with stolen money. It was just… fun. And you value fun. 

Stark was still scolding you.

“...you know what, you, Loki, I expect this shit from. I told Thor taking you on was a bad idea and I stand by it now. But you, Lum? I thought you were smarter than this. I'll let you off this time because I'm sure he forced you to--”

“He didn't force me,” you say, quickly, before you can process your own words.

“Excuse me?”

“He,” you start, faltering as you calculate a story, eyes passing from Stark to Loki and back again, “he didn't force me. I wanted to go. I mean, sure, he talked about leaving, but then I was like hey, that sounds fun, you know? And you seem like a break-the-rules kind of guy, and I thought it would be good experience, and…”

Stark looks unconvinced for a moment, but you maintain eye contact. He furrows his brows. “So you're telling me Loki… Wasn't trying to break out and actually do damage.”

“Yes.”

“And that you were equal accomplices in this.”

“Y-yes.”

Stark stared at you before you both looked to Loki, who you caught in the final moments of subtle shock as he resumed his poker face.

“So you  _ really _ didn't force them into this,” Stark asks Loki dryly, barely even a question.

“I assure you,” is his reply.

With a groan, Stark shuts his eyes and places his hands on his hips. He's definitely trying to process this situation before he finally speaks. “Alright. Sure. This is not the craziest thing that's ever happened at all.” 

You were sure it wasn’t, but you weren’t about to say anything. He was clearly on a roll. An angry, frustrated roll. 

“Loki and my college intern just went on a joyride for the hell of it. Okay. You, mister,” he jabs his index finger in Loki's direction, “can stay, but you are on  _ thin _ ice.  _ You _ , Lum, are in trouble. I mean, you both are. You have… chores or something. I don't have time for this. Just don't do it again, okay?” He sounded like such a tired father.

Before either of you can reassure him that you will totally never cause any problems again (you will, together or separate, somehow), Thor bursts into the room, suddenly and conveniently.

“Stark! I trust my brother has not caused too many problems?” 

“Surprisingly, no, but--”

“Excellent! While you talked, I've learned of the Spider-boy's immense power! He was just telling us about his  _ huge _ 'Dick Energy!’” Thor proclaims.

You, Stark, and Loki all make your own unique noises of shock at this declaration, while Spider-Man is beaming with pride. “It's Spider- _ Man _ , but yeah, I've got  _ SUCH  _ Big Dick Energy!” His voice squeaks in a manner that no one with Big Dick Energy's voice ever would. 

Happy finally seems to catch up behind them, bent over and breathing heavily. “I told,” pant, “you two,”  _ pant _ , “not to disturb them!” It dawns on you how ridiculous this scenario is and you bite back laughter. 

Stark seems relieved at the change of subject, and someone else to scold. Loki makes eye contact with you, and you take this as your moment to leave. Stark doesn’t complain about your departure. As you make it a ways down the hall, Loki stops you.

“You… covered for me.” You've both long since shifted back to your regular forms, and you have to look up slightly more to make eye contact. He is still so pretty. You hate it, but focus on his words. He's acknowledging your effort. Is he… is he going to thank you???

“Well, yeah. I don't think it was gonna go too well for you if I didn't,” you say, sticking your hands in the pockets of your hoodie. It runs cold in this building, and direct eye contact with Loki makes it just that much icier.

Loki takes too long to respond, like he's not sure what his next move should be. You would feel powerful throwing off a god if his unwavering gaze was not so unnerving. Your brows furrow.

“Fool,” he says quietly, and walks off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you call after him. He doesn’t respond.

You don't follow him; what would you do if you caught up? You're unsure if you did something wrong, if this is some kind of test, if maybe he's just not used to kindness. Grinding your teeth in frustration, you lean back against the wall. Loki can be... such a jackass. You question if he functions on the same wavelength as humans; you question if, perhaps, being a trickster god he is characteristically unpredictable and you shouldn't try to bond in the first place. You file that thought away, because you love a challenge and the notion makes you want to try harder to befriend him.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you type away with one hand in response to some friends. One way or another, you missed your dance class, which was kinda important to you. Bogus. And Loki didn't even appreciate your sacrifice. Asshole. After lingering in the hallway for a little too long, Thor and Spider-Man come back out of your Punishment Room™.

“Lum!” Thor calls. You turn your head to acknowledge the actually fucking  _ nice _ brother, smiling awkwardly. You're a little hurt by Loki's words, but you can suck it up.

“Hey! Stark scold you too?”

“Funny. No, he was acquainting me with the Spider-boy formally.”

“Spider- _ Man _ !” the boy chirps. You grin. His gaze swings to you and he sticks his hand out. “Uh, hey! Sorry about the whole web goo earlier, Mr. Stark said I had to catch you. My name's Peter Parker!! But you can call me Spider-Man if we're using our fake names.” You take his hand and shake, willing to forgive the bad first impression.

“I'm Lum. I'd give you my fake name, but I don't have one yet. I'm not really an official Avenger. Not sure I will be after that stunt,” you admit sheepishly.

Peter puts his hands on his hips and looks to the side in a way he must think is cool. “Yeah, well, if you work hard and stuff… I dunno. I'm sure nothing that bad can happen! I messed up a lot when I first got my suit.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh. Yeah. Haha. Got a whole ferry split in two, lost a big bad guy, like, three times, it was.. not great. But hey, I'm here now!”

“That sounds pretty intense! How old are you?”

“Oh, you know, uhhhh……….. 15.” You choke up; he had a young voice, but that's a fucking baby. How early does Stark pull them? You're at least an adult. Peter sees your shock and quickly adds, “B-but I'm super mature for my age! I can handle it!”

You stop reeling long enough to assure him that you believe he can handle it, though you don't entirely. You realize Thor has been standing a bit too quietly and glance up at him. He seems lost in thought. You entertain conversation with Peter long enough for him to run along without it feeling awkward (you don't mind the chatter, he litters his sentences with memes and you are  _ totally _ down for cryptic internet humor exchanges). When he leaves, you flag down Thor, who was starting to walk off.

“Hey! Uh, are you okay? You looked bothered a minute ago.”

Turning back to you, he offers a smile, the kind your strong friend gives when they don't want you to worry. “I'm fine. If anything, I worry about Loki. I don't want him to mess this up.”

“I don't think he's messed it up yet. I covered for him when Stark was scolding us. I kinda hate getting in trouble, but I'm not gonna leave a dude hanging when we were both out there.”

“You  _ covered _ for him?” The repeated shock at this notion is beginning to make you second guess. Maybe you should've second guessed immediately when you decided to cover for Loki, but you're too stubborn and not a fuckin’ snitch, so you won't go back. 

“Should I... not have?”

“Well, that's… a loaded question. Truth be told, I don't even know if I should have covered him enough to get this opportunity.” Thor gazes off again, then continues. “But he's my brother. I owe him that much. You.. don't know him. Don't feel pressured to help him.”

A multitude of possible responses filter through your mind in a fashion similar to a role-playing game. You could lie and say you feel pressured. You could be honest and say you bonded with him. You could be honest and say you think he's attractive and you're weak for attractive people. You could be honest and say he actually had a good cause, if you wanted to rat the both of you out. You could be honest and say you have little to no faith in yourself, and feel that literally anyone, even Loki, is better cut out for this than you are, and maybe you're sabotaging yourself on purpose. There's a lot of factors here, none of which he needs to know.

“I don't feel pressured,” you respond slowly. “I trust your judgment. And besides, I don't wanna lose this just 'cause he tried to sneak out and have fun. I'm gonna beat him fair and square!” You puff your chest out, faking a pride that you hope Thor can't see through.

Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't; what you know is that he lets out a laugh and says, “Fighting spirit! I like it. Don't expect the same kindness from Loki.”

\--

The next day you spend cleaning up around the complex with Loki, except he is absolutely not doing most of the work, because he's just  _ soooo _ fancy and has his clones do it. He begins to walk out as soon as Stark leaves, and you tug on his shoulder.

“What?” 

“You can't just leave me alone here!”

“I absolutely can. If you truly need company, my illusion should be plenty.”

“It's not if I know it's your stupid clone! I want real company. I don't even care if you do the work yourself. I mean, I'm pretty bitter that you're not, but you at least owe me some conversation for covering.”

Loki looks amused and confused all at once. “I owe you nothing. No one has ever  _ demanded _ my company, though. What is it you want?” You can tell he's waiting for some kind of catch. 

As he sits down on the couch, clone sweeping idly across the room, you think. “Mmm.. I dunno. Thor told me you like theatre.” You hear a casual noise of acknowledgement. “What's theatre like on Asgard?”

“Well, it's an art of lying. You'll be unsurprised to know that interests me. Sort of boring, though,” he muses, a tinge of honesty in his tone. “It's just the same stories over and over, tales of Odin's victories. I did, briefly, get to tell my own heroic tale.” You look up with clear disbelief when he describes himself as heroic. He scoffs. “Perhaps I embellished a few details.”

There are so many opportunities to express dissent to that statement. You're feeling bold, so you sweep casually as you say, “Bet it sucked.”

“Pardon?”

“Bet your play sucked,” you say again, resting both hands atop the broom, and your chin on your hands, smirking like an asshole.

“It--it did not  _ suck _ !” He is standing now, feathers absolutely ruffled. 

You grin and wiggle behind your broom. “Probably had such a primitive plot structure. What, let me guess, an exaggeration of you doing something mildly brave, the end, please clap?”

“ _ You…, _ ” he starts viciously, and you realize that you were definitely right, or at least in the ballpark, and start cackling. This only incenses him further; you duck out of the way when you realize he's coming at you. 

“Hey, hey, we all start somewhere!” You're half genuinely reassuring him, half still teasing him. He's stalking towards you and you are frantically backing away.

Backing away, into his clone, who grabs your arms.

“Hey, hey hey hey, I was just teasing!” 

“I recall  _ you _ asking  _ me _ about theatre on Asgard. And then you mock me!” He's leaning in and snapping at you while his clone still holds you, and, well, you've seen way too many movies, stories, and, uh, too much porn, to not feel a little flustered. His face is close, your face is red, he’s pissy, you’re a hormonal young adult, and boy did this get awkward. He's still telling you off when he slowly trails off and looks at your face, baffled. “What are.. why do you look like that?”

“You’re very  _ close _ .”

“What, you get to mock me but when I come to tell you off  _ I’m _ the bad guy? Oh of  _ course _ Lum DeVico can do  _ no _ wrong! It’s always  _ Loki _ !” He is  _ not _ getting it.

“That’s not--” you start; he stops you.

“No, no, I’m  _ always _ the bad guy--” he starts; you stop him.

“Loki, let me go!” you shout at him; both he and his clone falter enough for you to twist out of his bind. You kick him for good measure. He recoils, less out of pain and mostly out of surprise, and he looks… hurt? If it were anyone else you would respond with comfort, but now you’re worked up, and you know that this whole situation is ridiculous and largely your own doing, but god damn it, he didn’t have to hold you up with those  _ very nice and strong _ arms just for teasing him!

Picking up the broom you previously held, you clutch it with embarrassment. The two of you are in a stand-off of sorts now; you, blushing, clinging to a broom like your life depends on it, and Loki, confused, baffled,  _ angry _ and snapping dramatically to make his clone disappear.

“I’m.. I’m gonna sweep in the other room!” Your voice falters, as do your legs, which remain stationary for a few seconds before you actually follow through on your announcement to leave.

Your sweeping in the next room is fruitless. This place isn't even dirty. Is Stark mocking you? Well, probably, but fuck him! And fuck Loki! Geez, you're worked up now. 

And sweaty. 

No one's touched you, like, at all, in a long time. It's not that you're ugly or--well, okay, you're chubby and have actually incredibly low self-esteem, but others have told you you're attractive. You make the choice to look weird, with bright, short hair, and crop tops that men tell you you're too fat to wear, and either no makeup at all or entirely too much. You're a self-described alien, and you're fine with that, and sometimes people are attracted to that, but not always, and… And, well, okay, you don't get touched often. There. You said it--thought it? You acknowledged it. 

You don't get touched often, and you play it off like it's cool, but heroics are a pretty contact sport. All the training lately involves you learning how to deflect hits, how to grab people to disarm them, etc, etc, so on and so forth. It involves you touching people, people touching you, and you're just a fucking lonely college kid and it's making you pretty pent up. And then Loki had to go and just  _ grab _ you and get in your face like that.

This is so incredibly stupid. You know that. You know that this is needless and irrational, but maybe you have a crush on Loki, okay? 

You've known Loki is attractive since his pictures surfaced years ago. They were blurry, generations of iPhones ago, but you could tell. You knew better, then, so you ignored it. Then you met him, and he was wearing that suit, and he looked like a normal person. A gorgeous normal person. You knew better, still, so you ignored it.

Then, you had to go and help him sneak out, get both yourselves in trouble, get to  _ know _ him, and realize you sort of have things in common. You just had to go and learn that he's funny, in the scathing, biting sort of way that you adore, that you both have a weird relationship with gender, and just…

God  _ fucking _ damn it.

You have a crush on Loki. Like an actual crush, not the vague attraction that you get to every cute person you see. What are you supposed to do now?

“Uh, Lum?”

You look up to see Bruce enter the kitchen and realize you have stopped sweeping at some point. In fact, you are gripping the broom like you're about to snap it in half. Which is great, you know, since you also have a tiny crush on Bruce and this is making a wonderful impression.

“You okay?” he asks, trying to prod a response out of you.

“Y-yes! Yes. Just thinking really hard about cleaning.”

“Alright, so you're not okay,” he says with a gentle chuckle. “Do you want to talk about it or should I make my sandwich in silence while you think real hard about cleaning?”

You sigh. “I'm just frustrated about yesterday.”

“You mean with Loki?” He's taking out bread, scanning the fridge to make sure things are actually still good. “How'd you get wrapped up in that anyway? Tony said he didn't force you, but you seem like a good kid.” A good kid? What a joke.

“You make me feel like such a baby whenever you call me kid! But, well, he didn't force me. He didn't want me to come at all, really, but I wanted out too and I figured, what's the worst that can happen?”

“You mean, you figured, ‘What’s the worst that can happen with a wild evil god of mischief known for his attempt to take over the world?’”

“I never said I was smart, Bruce.” You watch him spread mayonnaise on the bread with a tenderness that is hilarious considering his position on the team.

“You are though.” He says it with such confidence, laying out pieces of his sandwich as he speaks.

You quirk a brow up. “What makes you so sure of that?” 

“Well, you score well on the general IQ tests and things we made you take, so there's that. But I've also seen you interact with people, and you've got a funny way of handling things, but you've at least got a pretty high emotional intelligence, I think.” He chews his newly made sandwich thoughtfully. “Which is more than I can say, I think, for a lot of the people who've been on this team.”

As he moves to the table with his food, you start wiping off the counter. You let his words roll around in your brain before you speak again, with a timid, “Thank you.” The compliment was so genuine you didn't know how to process it. 

“Sorry, was that weird? I was trying to be nice, I feel like I made things awkward.” There's the Bruce Banner you're used to.

With a laugh, you respond, “No, it was just really sweet. I get thrown off when people are just plain nice to me.”

“You shouldn't. You deserve it, as far as I can tell.” There's an exchange of soft, genuine smiles.

“You're sweet, Bruce. Your partner's got to be lucky.” 

“My partner?” he asks. 

“Like, uh, your romantic partner. Unless you don't have one?” Fuck. Smooth. ”Fuck, sorry, I was trying to be nice, too.”

“Oh. Geez, no, I don't have anything like that. The big guy kinda makes it hard.” He makes some sort of grand gesture when he says, 'the big guy.’ You know he means the Hulk, but it's so cute watching him try to dance around it.

“What, no one wants a big green hunk to hold them tight?”  _ Because I do, _ you think.

“'Hunk’ is a new way to describe him. It's generally 'monster,’ maybe 'creature’ at best.” Suddenly he's avoiding eye contact, shameful. You realize you've treaded into a touchy subject. Do you compliment him? Will that sound flirty? Well, you do kind of want to flirt, but you know workplace boundaries, so you're not trying to. He looks like such a kicked puppy. Ugh, you're going for it.

“Maybe I'm just a weirdo, but I'd say you're both a catch.” You drop the line as casually as you can, glancing over just to see his reaction. His eyes widen and he chokes on his food.

“Lum, are you… are you flirting with me?”

“Nnnnnnooooo?” How can he just CALL YOU OUT LIKE THAT.

You engage in the most awkward standoff ever, because neither of you are actually looking at each other. In fact, you are staring at the dishes you have begun washing while Bruce munches helplessly on his sandwich. You try to alleviate the tension.

“Look, I’m not trying to like, make you uncomfortable or anything, uh.”

“No, you’re, you’re fine, Lum. I’m just not used to anyone saying anything like that to me.” He sounds genuine, so you’re at least reassured that you didn’t ruin anything here.

“You mean to say no one looks at a cute man with a plethora of doctorates and the ability to become a massive green muscle man and goes, ‘Yes! I want that!’?”

“I can’t even tell if you’re being serious. You know the massive green muscle man is uncontrollable and hurts things and  _ people _ , right? That he comes out if I get too worked up, that one day he could come out and I might not come back?”

“We all have problems.” You say it simply and with a shrug, because that’s the only way you can think to. It dawns on you that this might sound dismissive, so you stop scrubbing, shake your hands dry, and lean on the counter as you look at him. “Sorry, that probably makes it sound like I’m not taking you seriously. I just meant, like… if that’s seriously the reason people aren’t interested, I don’t think it’s particularly fair, because you seem like you try really hard to handle it, and the big guy? He’s done a lot of damage but he’s done a lot of good, too, from what I’ve read in the media.” Bruce isn’t responding. You purse your lips and go on with the only thing you know how to do: keep rambling. “So I just, you know, I think you deserve love. That’s all I’m saying. Am I being weird? I don’t--”

Bruce cuts you off. “It’s okay, Lum, it’s okay. You’re not being weird.” A laugh escapes him that surprises you both. “I just--the last time someone tried to flirt with me it was really sudden and forced, and before that, well, I don’t even remember. I was also kind of trapped, in my own mind, on an alien planet, for a  _ while _ . So you, just standing there, saying nice things, it’s... It  _ is _ weird, but not because of you. It’s nice? Oh, damn it.” He rubs his eyes--is he getting worked up?

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask, voice low, approaching him slowly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”

You sit down next to him and curse yourself because you do  _ not _ need to be developing feelings  _ TWICE _ in one day. But uh, you’re a polyamorous over-emotional trainwreck, so you are. You’re at the fucking threshold of revelations today. At first, you reach for his hand, then retract it, because that’d be weird, right? But then he reaches for your hand anyway. You stifle a noise and smile like a fool.

“Thank you.”

“For what, being nice to you?” 

“Well, yeah, I--”

“Lum!” You hear Stark’s voice cut off Bruce and you both quickly retract your hands. “Doing a great job cleaning, I see. Do you actually listen to me?”

“Aw, come on, Tony, I’m the one that pulled them into conversation.” You thank the heavens that Bruce is covering for you. “Give them a break.”

“I gave them a break letting them join this operation.  _ They _ made the choice to help break out a criminal, steal one of my cars, and drive to NYC. So there’s plenty of rooms that can use dusting, so get to it, kid.” He gives you a stern look before exiting.

You grooooooooooooan as you slide out of the chair and stand up again. Bruce looks towards you apologetically, and opens his mouth to vocalize it, but you shake your head. “Nah, I mean, I wouldn’t call this whole thing giving me a break, but I  _ did _ assist Loki in leaving. Curse my rebellious nature and all that.”

“Just don’t let Tony stress you out too much. I’ve pissed him off more times than I can count. He’s got that testy personality, but he cares.”

“I have enough experience with my own emotionally stunted father to know that, and also to know that that kinda attitude still hurts the people you care about, so, I’m not inclined to be too sympathetic. But I know what you mean and I’ll try to be patient.” You reach up and stretch, not wanting to actually leave, when an idea strikes you. “Hey, Bruce?” He makes a quiet hmm as he stands to go put away his plate. “Can I give you a kiss?”

“Wh--are you  _ asking _ to kiss me?”

“Well, I’m not gonna just do it without consent!”

He makes a funny face, shaking his head. Then, he sighs. “Against my better judgment, yes.”

“Cool.” You lean in and delicately place your hands on his shoulders as you give him a smooch on the cheek. “You deserve love. Bye!” You bolt out of the room before you can think twice about what you’ve done; you glimpse him placing a hand tenderly to his cheek and blushing.

As you speed down the hall you nearly crash into that one weird lab assistant that Loki hates. “Smoochin’ my boss?” she asks.

“No! ...Yes. What are you doing here?” 

“What makes you think I wasn’t always here?” She replies with a cheeky smile. 

“Excuse me?”

A laugh. “Anyway, you seem to be getting pretty friendly with some of your teammates. I appreciate your taste.” She winks.

“Thank you? I think? Um. Are you going to… you know...”

“Tell Stark?”

“Yes, that.”

“I won't, for a price.”

“And the price is…?” You trail off, fighting against the panic rising in your chest.

“Oh, I dunno. I just like how it sounds. Anyway, I spilled a bunch of shit upstairs and I need you to mop it.” She practically floats away, leaving you in the dust of her bullshit. With a heavy sigh indicating to any potential audience that you  _ absolutely _ don't make enough allowance to deal with this, you jog after her to get in the elevator before it closes. Between hot babes and chaotic staff members, living here is the death of you.

 

**BONUS DRAWING**  


(This has nothing to do with the chapter but I felt like sharing the doodles I do while I brainstorm, maybe there will be one at the end of each chapter, who knows)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TENSIONZ RISING


	7. Snaking Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is pissy but that's never stopped you.

When you crush, you crush hard. When you crush, you step into a puddle which turns out to be an ocean, and your whole body stumbles into this big sea of emotions and fondness and frustration. You don't like it, but you're a romantic. 

With Bruce, you're mostly okay with it, because he seems to at least kind of like you, and in a worst case scenario you probably have an unrequited love for a sweet man with a good head on his shoulders and some anger issues that he does his best to control. 

With Loki, it’s far less okay. Loki is a  _ god _ that you cannot read, with an attitude worse than yours. Not to mention an ego, far too much power, more years of experience than you can actually wrap your mind around, and at least some level of bloodlust. Also, you've never seen him touch anyone. Does he even do romance? Kissing, touching, sex? Does Loki _ fuck? _

Yet it’s Loki you dream of. You dream of Bruce, too, but that's a more chaste fondness. It is Loki whose touch you dream of arching your back under, whose long fingers you dream of sliding up your belly, your chest,your neck. Not choking (not yet), but pressing you down as he sucks at the upper inner corners of your thighs. It's his free hand that in your dreams is placed under your knee as he kisses down your leg, and it's in your dreams that you don't panic about your stretch marks being seen or razor burn where you fail to shave properly. In your dreams, Loki loves all of these things. In your dreams, you are the god he worships, just as much as you let your dream-self worship him.

You wake up, suddenly, flustered and sweaty.

Your hand runs over your throat as you process what you dreamt of. Your eyes squeeze shut as you try to sink back into it, but you're awake now, and very aware of all of it. Your legs close tight as you accept your disappointment.

Yesterday, you spent the entire day cleaning, and had managed to avoid Loki. Towards the end of the day, Stark finally took mercy, especially after the third spill Lyssa made you clean up. She was absolutely doing it on purpose, but you found her company intriguing, to say the least, so you allowed it to keep happening.

Today, you have training again. You're supposed to be battling Loki, not as a final decision or anything like that, just as a means of determining your progress. No one pretends that you have any physical prowess over Loki; they don't mock you, but it's obvious.

You fear this, not because of the fight itself, but because you haven't spoken to Loki since the fiasco with him getting up in your business. You're not sure if he's really emotionally stupid enough to not have understood why you were flustered up against him, but you're not about to go have a heart to heart about it.

Well, you also fear the potential hurt Loki can put down when there's tension.

And you should. Because when you get dressed and head into the little arena they've been using, you feel a wave of frustration. Oh fuck.

Loki isn't outwardly angry. In fact, he looks incredibly, totally calm. No one else seems to think anything of it, but you can tell something's off. You're having a staring contest with one another when Stark comes over the intercom and tells you to get on with it before he gives you more chores.

You exhale loudly before throwing a punch, which of course he blocks. Movements after that come and go quickly, and you find yourself wondering why they had you fight each other and not, like, Thor to test your strength. You know, someone who wouldn't kill you for funsies. The most terrifying part is that you're moving at the same speed, that you can keep up with him, and you know  _ damn well _ that Loki should be able to move faster than this. 

“Why are you going easy on me?” you ask, voice low.

Loki flashes a smile and says, “I was waiting for you to ask.” Suddenly he flips you over on your back, and you're winded, hard, but you manage to roll over before he steps on you.

“Really? You're trying to step on me?”

“You need to know your place.”

Suddenly he is moving much faster and you go from landing equal blows to dodging and blocking his, and hey, you're proud of being able to do at least that. You land a punch right to his cheek as you wish you were allowed weapons, because your knuckles pulse from the impact against whatever the  _ hell _ Asgardian bodies are made out of. Loki hits the ground hard, hair falling over his face. He doesn't move.

“...Loki?”

Nothing.

“Loki, I  _ know _ that didn't take you out.”

He's still on the floor with ragged breathing. You glance around, knowing the Avengers are watching you. Is he tricking you? Probably. Are your nurturing instincts taking over anyway? Absolutely.

You approach him cautiously. “Loki, I know you're probably just playing dead, but you're freaking me out and I need to make sure--”

You lose your breath as a boot slams against your lower back and you crash down into a poof of light; it was another illusion. You try to lift yourself, but the boot stays on your back.

“You  _ need _ to know your place,” he repeats. You assume this is a god-to-mortal thing regarding you mocking him the other day. Is he still mad? You were anxious, but you had chalked it up to just that: anxiety. Surely, Loki would be more rational than that? Perhaps not.

You make one last effort to lift yourself, but he leans forward with more pressure. You cry out.

“Say you yield.”

“What the  _ fuck? _ ” you ask.

“Say you give up.”

“Are you getting off on this? Because I already can't move.” More pressure is applied. “I yield!” The words come out by force, desperation. “I fucking yield! Get off of me!”

He steps off and walks off easily. You do not move. Stark tells you to move. You do not move.

It takes a solid minute before you lift yourself and sit on your calves, staring at the floor. That was not just a routine fight; that was personal. Why?

The next few minutes are a blur as you step back into the viewing room. Spider-Man--Peter, rather--who is staying for a few days rushes up to you and tells you how cool that was. Bruce tells you better luck next time, and Stark tells you the same in a much more formal manner. Thor does not say anything, and it is Thor that you approach as the others walk out talking to each other.

“What the hell was that?” you hiss. 

“Hm?” 

“That. I know you saw that. Why did he treat me like that?”

“I... don't know. Just days ago you returned with him on such good terms. Did something happen, Lum?”

“I mean… we joked around the other day while we were cleaning, I said I bet his play sucked, he got all mad about it, and I mean, that was fine. I think we were… mostly in jest at that point. But then he was, like, holding me up while he told me off, and I got, y’know, I got flustered that we were so close, and told him to back off, and we haven't really talked since then.”

“Ah.”

“Also I kicked him? But like what's a little kick between friends,” you add, trying to give the full story while returning to your normal joking self.

“Walk with me, Lum,” says Thor, and the two of you exit the room and head into the hall.

“I didn't think he'd be so mad about that,” you admit. “Maybe a little pissy, but he seemed so serious in there.”

“Loki's… not very good with friendship,” Thor says slowly, looking straight ahead.

“Well I can fucking tell that much!”

“I'm serious, Lum. On Asgard, he never really had friends, conspirators, anything. Granted, he was a brat and didn't do much to entice people into his companionship, but either way, he was lonely.”

“Okay?”

“What I'm getting at is... you two got along, and then you insulted him, and then you told him to go away, it sounds like, and perhaps he isn't adjusting too well to the sensation.”

As you walk, you arch your back, trying to get rid of the soreness from Loki's stomp. You mull over the words being said to you.

“I mean, I was a little harsh, but like, is he that upset about that? It wasn't even--he started going on about, 'Wahhh, I'm always the bad guy,’ when it wasn't even that! I was, I was flustered! Like, hot guy grabs you from behind with a clone and gets in your face, you know, we were playing around and then that!”

Before you can ramble more, Thor cuts in. “Did you call Loki a, ‘ _ hot guy _ ’?” 

You don't even think to be ashamed. “Yes? Is he not?” Thor's brows furrow.

“No comment regarding the hotness of my  _ brother _ ,” he says, laughing awkwardly. A beat of silence. “But that does change things. I was not there, but I can assure you with good confidence that he did not interpret the interaction as being 'flustered,’ especially given his behaviour today.”

You keep walking in another moment of silence. You're not sure where it is you're going, but Thor is taking it with surprisingly casualness that you think Loki is hot.

“Have you considered talking to him?”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Well, there's no way he'll know you're not mad if you don't tell him.” Thor looks sure of himself. You are flabbergasted.

“First of all, I  _ am _ just a  _ little mad _ , because even if we had a little argument the other day it is suuuuper uncalled for to press me into the ground and tell me to know my place.” (You consider the fact that in a different context you would not mind that at all.)

“Well, he does still have a bit of a complex about us being gods and all--”

“Second of all!” You put your hand up because a man is  _ not _ gonna talk over you right now. You open your mouth to speak, but you've lost your train of thought and move forward with less confidence. “Well, second of all, I mean. Damn it. I was going to say something about how Loki doesn't seem like a super talk about your feelings type of guy and I'm not gonna put myself on the line to _ maybe _ have your hot brother hear me out against his superiority complex.”

“Please stop calling my brother hot  _ to _ me,” Thor says awkwardly. 

You can't help but laugh a little. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, you're right that he's not very talkative about feelings. Perhaps, though, some kind of bonding is in order?”

“And what exactly do you suggest?”

“I'm the god of thunder, not god of making up with my jerk brother. That part is up to you. He does like… snakes? And gold? I'm positive you can think of something! Just try not to get stabbed; he does that sometimes. Good luck!” Thor is back to his bafflingly peppy self suddenly, giving you a thumbs up as he heads off. You gather that neither of these men are particularly good at feelings talks. You don't think anyone in this facility is, at this point. 

Shoving your hands in your pockets, you sigh. “Alright. Snakes and gold, I guess,” you muse, wandering off to your bedroom.

\--

Throughout the next day, the soreness in your lower back develops. You're embarrassed about this pain from a little kick and press, and you're also very lonely and upset, so you decide to call in a friend you know can help.

That is, if you can get permission.

“I've been, like, super good besides the whole joyride to NYC, and I  _ really _ wanna see a friend--”

“I don't need any more reckless kids around here!”

“She's not a kid! She has a degree!” You say these things with confidence as though they determine each other. Stark squints. “She’s a healer?”

You see the wheels turn as a capitalist considers less health care to dish out.

“She can visit.”

You'll take it.

\--

When Finesse arrives, she is in awe.

“Geez, buddy, I thought you were joking when you said you were working with the Avengers!” 

“No, I was serious,” you say, laughing as you wheel her luggage towards your room. You know for a goddamn fact that Stark has more empty rooms than he knows what to do with here, yet he insists on Finesse staying in your room during her visit. Something about keeping an eye on her. You take it as an opportunity for more time to catch up, so it's fine. 

In the halls, you pass Thor, who stops to scope out the new kid. 

“Is that--” Finesse starts.

“Thor, this is my friend Finesse!”

Thor offers a warm hello and his hand, which is massive compared to little 5’1” Finesse's when she reaches out. You can practically see stars in her eyes as they shake hands, and she keeps staring at her hand as he passes by. Luckily, you have almost arrived at your room, so when the door shuts she leans back against it.

“That was  _ Thor _ !”

“It was.”

“Like,  _ the _ Thor.”

“I only know one.”

“Heck yeah you do! Oh my god, that was--he's so  _ handsome _ !”

You laugh out-right now. It was obvious she thought he was beautiful, but her bluntness is refreshing. He's not really your type, but you can see the appeal. “He's pretty good looking.”

“Do you like... see him every day? Do you ever work with him?”

“Well uh, like I said, I'm sort of interning with them. So yes I see him pretty often. He's really nice! I'm sure if you wanna talk to him he'd be down.”

With her free hand, Finesse is clutching the Thor-shaken hand to her chest and sighs, nodding excitedly at the idea. You let her soak in it for another moment before reminding her of the visit's purpose.

“I'm, uh, pretty sore, if you don't mind…”

“Oh! Yeah, lemme get in on that.” As you lay down, Finesse rubs her hands together in anticipation. She places her hands very gently on the small of your back and you feel her healing touch begin to spread. Then she speaks again. “So what exactly caused this?”

Letting the healing progress for a few moments longer, you weigh your options. Honesty or literally anything else? Lies generally involve creating a story and backups, and you don't care enough to do that right now.

“You know Loki?”

“Like, Thor's evil brother that caused all the trouble in NYC?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, what about him?”

Moments of silence pass between you as she rubs circles over your lower back. Her movements steadily slow until they come to a full halt.

“Wait,  _ Loki _ did this to you? Is that what you're saying? Because it sounds like that's what you're saying.” She speaks quickly and you squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face in a pillow. “Holy shit, Lum!”

“I  _ know _ . I'd say he's not so bad but I guess he is right now. I think he's mad that I talked shit about his hobbies.”

“Why would you talk shit about his hobbies?!”

“I was flirting! You know I'm mean when I flirt!”

“So now you're insulting  _ and _ flirting with a god?” she asks.

You stare at the frame of your bed, head cradled in your arms. You feel Finesse's healing working over your back, and know it will still be tender for a bit, but so much better nonetheless. Sighing, you say, “Yes. I'm insulting and flirting with a god.”

“Well,” she says, moving away to sit at the foot of the bed, “that's bold, friend, but you know I support you. Is he still mad at you?”

 

“The last time I saw him he did that to my back. That was a few days ago. I can't say for sure, but I'm not inclined to think he likes me any better today.” You roll onto your back, propping yourself up by your elbows against a pillow and the words just begin pouring out of you. “I'm not expecting to date a god, let's be clear. I  _ know _ he's out of my league. Like, just, fundamentally I'm a weak lower-end-of-millennials mortal who can't shut up, and he's been alive for like a bajillion fucking years and treated like royalty and can afford to only wear suits and leather--which is really hot by the way.” Breathe. “But I'd like to be on decent terms, here, and I don't know what to do.”

Finesse looks thoughtful as she taps her chin. “You could.. get him a gift? Like, y'know, an offering, almost? He probably likes that kind of thing.”

You're a sucker for giving gifts. This sounds tempting. “Maybe. I don't know what to give him though. Thor said he likes snakes and gold, but like, what, am I gonna give him a straight up snake?”

“Yes!”

“Whoa, whoa,  _ what _ ?” You sit up fully now and stare at her to make sure you're on the same page. “You want me to actually get him a fucking snake.”

“Well, I'm just throwing out ideas here with you. When we were texting a while ago you said he's pretty alone, right? Maybe he'd enjoy the company!”

She makes a fair point, but getting someone a pet without checking is pretty inconsiderate to the animal if the recipient doesn't want it. However…  _ you _ are also a lonely person, and snakes are pretty great. So you could.. just.. keep it. If he doesn't want it, that is. Actually, you've always wanted a pet, and snakes have always fascinated you, and from what you know they're relatively low maintenance. Whenever you've visited friends with snakes they had to pry their pets away from you, but it never occurred to you you could have your own. You could totally have a snake if he says no.

You kind of want him to say no. He's Loki, that's what he's best at. 

The entire snake idea has wrapped around your brain in itself a snake like manner and you are  _ super _ into this. Finesse helps you look up local reptile stores; there are few, and most are far, but there's also a reptile convention that happens to be taking place this coming weekend.  _ Perfect.  _

“We doing this, Finesse?”

“Hell yeah!”

You're doing this.

\--

The reptile convention comes and goes and you are now the proud (temporarily, maybe) owner of a sweet little ball python. There had been a strong temptation to look for one with a feisty temperament to spring on Loki, but you're trying to be nice, and also have to handle the snake yourself, and also aren't  _ actually _ an asshole. So you managed to find one that had very gently coiled around your arm, and honestly, you were in love.

The days prior to the outing were spent watching snake care videos with Finesse from the comfort of your bed. You managed to procure a tank for the snake with gold on the rims that you felt Loki might like, and if he didn't, you did.

Now you were in a Lyft approaching the facility again when you realize you have to actually, like.. get a snake in the building. You didn't think this through. Like, does Stark have sensors for this kind of thing? Like would it go 'beep beep beep bitch you have a snake do not pass go!’ or would you be able to just walk in?

Perhaps you shouldn't test your luck, you decide, because this is supposed to be a surprise to Loki. That is, if it's gonna work at all. At the end of the day, this is an attempt to make amends, and if he sees you get caught like an idiot at security you don't think he'll be particularly impressed with you. 

So, you take out your phone and text Lyssa. Surely she has some kind of clearance above you that will make this easier. It only takes one promise to do an act of presently unspecified mischief to convince her to help, and she meets you outside.

“This the snake?”

“Yes, Lyssa, the snake I'm holding is the snake.”

“Cool, I'll fire up the grill.”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“I said you know the drill.” Lyssa is smiling easily, and you exchange an alarmed glance with Finesse. “C'mon, lemme get that inside.” Lyssa takes the contained snake from your hands with surprising care for someone who definitely just threatened to cook it, and…

Just walks inside.

Rushing after her, you say, “Wait, you just fucking walked in, you didn't have to do anything?”

“Nah, what did you think, there's some kinda snake sensor?” She places it back in your hands now that you're both inside. “Anyway, you owe me one. Toodles!” Aaaaaand she's gone. 

Finesse helps you get the snake to your room as a temporary landing point while you determine how you're going to offer this to Loki. With a sigh, you sit back, staring at your new friend.

“Is this a good idea?”

“Uh, I hope so, because we just snuck a snake into the Avengers’ headquarters, Lum.”

“I know. And I want the snake anyway. But like..  _ should _ I be offering anything to him? I was a little mean but he was like, way meaner. Am I getting myself into bad territory? Should I just stay on bad terms with him?”

Squatting to stare in the cage, Finesse stares at the snake. “Good is always better than bad. This isn't, like... a love letter. You're just trying to make amends.”

“I kinda wish it was one, though. But I'm not that stupid.” You unlock the tank and the snake allows you to pull it out, coiling gently around your arm and lifting its head to meet yours. It flicks its tongue out at your nose and you giggle. “C'mon, buddy.”

You decide to place the snake back into the cage for the transportation to Loki, and Finesse opts to stay in your room with WiFi and a blanket. You thank Stark internally for not placing you that far from Loki's room, as unsafe as it made you feel at first.

Initially, knocking on his door goes the same as it ever has. You knock, you get nothing. You knock again, you get nothing. You knock one more time, with a firm, “Please.”

Loki slides his door open and squints at you from the sliver he has allowed. “Did you not learn your lesson?”

You scrunch up your nose with a, “Well, first off,” and you're about to tell him off, but you take in a  _ deeeeeeeep _ breath. “Look. I'm… sorry for making fun of your theater. At least, I think that's what this is about. I was just playing with you, and…”

“What is  _ that _ ?” he asks, stopping your train of thought as he unlatches his door and slides it further open. “Do you have… a snake?”

“Yes!” He seems less angry, so you're gonna run with it. “Her name is Jörmy. Can I come in?”

“No. Why is it called that.” Nevermind, he's still a bitch.

“Well, I knew you were mad at me, and Thor said you liked snakes and gold, so I got you this snake and its tank has gold. And I did some reading, and I dunno how much Norse myths hold up to your actual life, but there was this stuff about a snake named Jörmungandr that was like, your kid or something? Did you give birth to a snake? I don't know. Anyway, it's for y--”

“Absolutely not.”

“But I--”

“ _ No. _ I don't want it.”

Loki starts to close the door in your face when Thor passes by. “Hello Loki! Hi Lum! Oh--is that a snake? Oh! Can I hold it?”

At this point you're accepting the failure of your gift and your ownership of this snake, so you begin to turn to offer him a look at Jörmy. Suddenly, Loki speaks again.

“You can't touch it.”

“Why can I not touch Lum's snake?”

Loki makes a weird face and you wonder if you both caught the vague sexual nature of that question, but he simply retorts with, “Because it's not Lum's snake. It's mine.” He then takes the tank forcefully (but not so much as to disturb the snake) from your hands, retreats into his room, and shuts his door.

Thor, when you turn back around, is equally as speechless as you are.

“Did you give him that snake?” Thor asks as you head back to your room. 

“Yeah. You said he liked them.”

“Went the direct route, I see. Noble. I trust all is well now?”

“Maybe? I don't know. He was still being a jerk but I think he's just like that.” At this moment you realize Thor has escorted you back to your room, and inside your room is Finesse. Glancing between him and your door, you decide to go for it. “Hey, Thor, you wanna hang out with me and Finesse for a while?”

“Uh--Sure!” He’s caught off-guard by the offer but smiles like a ball of sunshine. 

So you make your friend's day, because damn it, if you can't have your man, she can.

**SORT OF UNRELATED PIC CUZ WHY NOT**

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter written for like a week but I've been so busy and am possibly now sick. I offer you a chapter and a doodle I have made today while my bones feel like jello.


	8. Train and Strain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time you take a step closer to Loki he seems to push you right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD. I'm so mad you guys. I've been trying to post this chapter for like, a week now. It kept giving me errors and I was trying EVERYTHING until finally I googled "emojis AO3" and discovered that this website doesn't support emojis and that's why it was erroring. So in the ensuing texting portions of this story, imagine a snake emoji after Loki's name instead of [snake-emoji] lol.

You dream of Loki again when you want to be dreaming of Bruce. You want to be dreaming of someone who is only a little unattainable, not someone who is entirely unattainable. But the heart wants what it wants.

You dream of holding Jörmy together, your head on Loki's shoulder. You dream of setting Jörmy back in her tank and kissing each other, and, after a quick bit of hand sanitizer, holding each other close. You dream of domesticity, which is even worse than when you dream of sex, because it means you _actually_ care. It's no longer just lust.

The caring is emboldened as you march to Loki's room again. Finesse has taken the day to play video games with Peter. They both like that Kingdom Hearts shit, and Thor is curious to watch them. You're glad they're having fun.

You, though. You stand at Loki's door, and this time you knock harder. You hear shuffling as Loki opens the door a crack and waits for you to explain yourself.

“I want to see our snake.”

“It is not _our_ snake. You gave me the snake.”

“Well I want to see her!” Loki is unimpressed, so you decide to sweeten the deal by holding up some new bedding you got for her. Loki opens the door and reaches for it, but you yank your arm back. “Let me in.”

With a heavy eye roll, Loki swings the door back enough for you to enter. “Don't get comfortable,” he warns.

“Does anyone, around you?” you ask, icily, as you begin to change out the bedding. Jörmy seems very at home, at least.

You didn't look to see Loki's response to you, expecting him to say something, but he didn't. As you lay the snake back down in her enclosure, gently rubbing down her scales, you look back to see him almost pouting.

“Sorry.”

“Hm?”

“Sorry. About what I just said. That was mean.”

Loki huffs and brushes past you to pick up the snake, and you watch her wrap herself around his arm. She looks comfortable; you're glad.

“I'm not delicate,” Loki says. “You don't need to baby me with offerings and apologies.”

“Well I'd rather you not stomp on me in trainings,” you say, a little irritated. Loki shrugs, eyes devoted to his pet.

“I'm sure you'll live.”

“I'll live, yeah, but I don't like feeling threatened around you! I want you to--I want to at least be on good terms. Like we were in the car.” You're staring at him, even if he ignores you, as he sits down on his bed. You follow him with a wide berth. His room is so much larger than yours. Figures.

“I really, _truly_ do not understand your desire to interact with me so heavily. Every time I step away, you take two steps closer.” You're not sure if he means literally or socially, but he has a fair point. Are you forcing him into this? Oof. “It's not.. that I don't, perhaps, on some level, appreciate interacting with someone. But you are absolutely impossible to understand, DeVico.”

“I thought we were on first name basis.”

“We were before you shoved me away and kicked me.”

“You were in my space!” you snap, stepping towards him. He tenses and you ease up, if only to keep the snake comfortable. “You grabbed me and yelled at me. Of course I'm going to freak out.”

“You insulted my theater.”

“Loki, I said I was sorry. I didn't even see it, why does my opinion matter?” Nothing. “I'm mean to my friends. Like, in a joking way. That was me being friendly with you, dude.”

“You're not very good at friendship,” he says lowly. He jumps, also, when you sit down on the bed next to him to pet Jörmy.

“You're one to talk,” is all you reply.

Loki watches you with some sort of emotion (fondness, perhaps?) as you lean in and the snake’s tongue darts at your nose, leaving you giggling.

“Fair enough,” he concedes.

\--

For the next day, you relish the brief closeness with Loki. He says you're allowed to come see the snake (who he refuses to call Jörmy) but you must knock and he must give you permission to enter each time. Which, fair enough, he likes his personal space.

You're able to move on with regular interactions in the team. You get to explore your powers more, testing the limits of your shifting. You discover that you can't create something more than a foot taller than your regular self, or too much heavier either. Loki, surprisingly enough, helps you with this. He explains that, while slightly different mechanics, he was not always as skilled at shifting, and helps you determine your limits, push them, maintain them. He fights you while you're shifted, tests you to maintain a form despite physical stress. He is only a little condescending and makes no serious attempts to injure you, which is a huge improvement.

You find more pain in Thor clapping his hand on your shoulder with pride at the end of a long day, and you practically fall to the ground under the force. Finesse rushes to pick you up and soothe you with healing your bruises. (Tony had allowed Finesse an extended stay and part-time job helping with things like this, and thank god for that, because navigating this social sphere on your own was taxing.)

“Oops. Sorry about that, Lum. Tired?”

“A bit.” A tilt of your head cracks your neck, and it is so relieving. Finesse's touch falters behind you and you can envision her shuddering at the gross noise. “Loki plays rough. Not that I'm _surprised_ , but yeesh.”

It’s at this moment that Loki walks past, patting himself with a hand towel with the level of attitude you’d expect from someone who grew up as a prince. He lowers the towel as he glances at you, and you smile like a dork, which he responds to by… suddenly hardening his features and walking past without a word.

“Why does he do that!” you hiss when he leaves the room. “Like whenever I smile at him, he looks all mad about it.”

“Remember what I said about friendship for him,” Thor says quietly, watching him, too. It’s clear he’s thinking. “Finesse, would you like to spar?”

Finesse lets go of you, and as you turn, you see her go through several emotions: shock, embarrassment, and some sort of pride? She crosses her arms and says, “You think you can take me, big guy?” It is at this moment that you must vividly note that she is, in fact, one inch over five feet tall, and that you recall almost knocking her out when you rounded a corner into her yesterday. Yet Thor takes this with humor.

“I will try my best. Perhaps you can heal me if you beat me down too hard,” Thor mentions, casually, as he takes the lead in heading to the door.

Are they… flirting? What the fuck is happening here?

It takes quite a bit of effort to not press your nose to the glass as curiosity crashes on you. Finesse hasn’t been here anywhere near as long as you have, but Thor is also, uh, much easier to interact with, so you try not to take it too hard that they seem to get along so well. If anything, you’re happy for her.

At some point, Bruce walks up behind you.

“They’re having fun, huh?” he asks. You squeak as you adjust to his presence and lean as casually against the window frame as you can. “Relax, I’m just coming to watch, too,” he laughs.

“Sorry, you just surprised me. How’ve you been?” You have not seen each other much since you kissed his cheek. That message is clear and he looks away.

“Just doing science things. Whatever Tony asks. I uh, I haven’t been avoiding you, I promise.” His hands have made their way back to his pockets.

“It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure we were cool. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, okay? I’ve been busy trying to handle interacting with Loki.”

“I know you’re not. I can’t imagine you pressuring me into something, Lum. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.” Bruce stares at his feet momentarily, and you start to refocus on Finesse and Thor, before he pipes up again. “About Loki, though.”

“What about him?”

“I’m not--I dont want to sound like I’m.. jealous, or anything, because I’m not, I’m not that kind of guy. But you’ve been kinda close with him lately.” You shrug and nod; he’s right. “I just want to make sure you’re not forgetting how dangerous he is. He’s been _acting_ fine, but…”

“Bruce, I’m not.. I’m not sure if you think I’m _with_ him or just making myself vulnerable, but I’m not, either way, okay? I’m just trying to be friendly. He’s done bad things but it’s not--it’s not like he’s entirely undeserving of friendship. I think he’s got some good. Thor is the only one who interacts with him outside of formalities and I’m just trying to give him a chance to prove he can be decent.” As you ramble, Bruce only squints at you more.

“I’ll trust you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You fall into silence as the two of you watch Thor _clearly_ going easy on Finesse. It’s endearing, really, so you get wrapped up in it when Bruce leaves for a moment. You figure he has to go to the bathroom. When he comes back and announces his presence again, you nod in his direction without speaking.

After a beat, he speaks again: “Loki hasn’t hurt you, right?”

This grabs your attention and you look over to him, confused. “Didn’t we just talk about this?”

Bruce laughs and scratches his head. “Did we? Sorry. You know how my memory gets.” You don’t know how his memory gets, but you have faulty memory yourself, sometimes, so you shrug it off.

“He hasn’t, anyway. Like I said, I’m just trying to give him a chance.”

“Do you really think he _deserves_ one?” Bruce asks. At least, it is Bruce’s voice, but _not_ Bruce’s tone, and you try not to make it too obvious that you’re squinting at whoever it is you’re talking to. You think you might know what’s going on here, but you don’t want to give that away just yet.

“What, you think he doesn’t?” you ask, testing the waters.

 _Bruce_ shrugs and avoids eye contact, looking through the glass at the others sparring. “I mean, I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been around him too much except as… well, you know, when I beat him senseless.” _Beat him senseless._ Your mind chews the words. The words taste like Loki.

“I mean, he definitely deserves to be beat senseless sometimes. Have you seen that face? So punchable,” you say, shrugging, sensing him fighting not to argue against that. Your words grow more serious after that. “But even if his face is punchable, I feel like he’s not that bad. Sure, he’s been a big shitty asshole at almost every opportunity, but… sometimes I see something decent there.” He hasn’t said anything, and you’re feeling brave, so you start to tag on: “Besides, he’s pretty cu--”

“Banner!” says Thor, bursting back into the room. ‘Bruce’ looks up from you to Thor and goes pale, muttering some excuse as he leaves. Thor looks to you, lost. “Did I do something?”

You reach into a cabinet to offer some towels and water to Finesse and Thor, grinning as you do. “That wasn’t Banner,” you say, quietly, in case he’s still around the corner. Bruce’s form comes back in, mumbling something about being sorry for taking so long, and you say, “ _That_ is.”

Bruce and Finesse both look helplessly confused, but Thor catches your drift, nodding sternly. This is an interesting development.

As the day goes on, you cannot stop thinking about this interaction and the fact that you almost called Loki cute to his face and _knew_ that you were doing it. Ugh. He scuttled out as soon as Thor appeared. Did he hear you starting to say it? Did he notice? Did he care. Uuuughh. You keep making bold decisions and regretting them immediately like the attention-needing brat you are.

You explain the situation to Finesse, and she insists you're fine, that she doesn't think it's a big deal. “That's easy for you to say, getting all close with Thor like you are,” you respond, and her cheeks go red all the way to her ears. You take your victory.

Later that night you can't sleep; not because of these thoughts, but general anxious restlessness. So when you go to visit Jörmy, Loki is both more and less relaxed than usual. He seems slightly on edge, yet also wearing a silk robe. You've never seen him wear anything beyond his Asgardian garb and a suit.

“You look comfortable,” you comment, sitting down on the floor with the snake in your hands, stroking her scales idly. She's a pastel morph, which meant yellow pigmentation was stronger in her scale patterns; you made the decision based on his apparent love of gold.

“It's 4:30am, Lum.” You're pleased to hear your first name. “You're lucky I deigned to open the door for you. Why are you awake? I've struggled to find you before noon on some days.”

“You've looked for me?” you ask as Jörmy leans up to inspect your hoodie. Loki falters before responding.

“To help _you_ train. Don't deflect. Why are you awake?”

“I haven't slept. Got shit to think about. Figured I'd say hi to the baby.” You hold up Jörmy to smooch her. “Were you not up? I guess I didn't think you were a morning person… I think I just figured you don't sleep.”

“Well I _do._ ” Your eyes look to him sitting at his desk in a swivel chair, in a black robe with green lace trim, hands folded in his lap, legs crossed. He looks tired, but in a poised way, where he isn't letting it get to him. He looks the part of a villain in all the ways he doesn't mean to.

“You can sleep, you know. I'm just holding her.”

“Fascinating that you think I trust you or anyone enough to sleep without a locked door between us.”

“Do you really think I'm going to hurt you?” You're a little hurt that he would even suggest it. He shrugs.

“I think anyone is capable of trying if I give them the chance.” _Sigh._

“You should really find it in yourself to trust someone. I'm your friend.” He raises his eyebrows. “I wouldn't buy a snake for someone I didn't consider a friend.”

“And here I thought you were recognizing me as your god by bringing an offering,” he says dryly.

“I've had plenty of pagan friends in my life. I don't know a damn one that brings a live snake as an offering to a god. You're gonna have to try harder, anyway, if you want me to make me worship you.” This time Loki only quirks one brow up and smirks just enough to make you realize the potential implications of your words. “Worship you like a god, not in a sex way!”

“Why, _Lum_ ,” he says with a tone of false scandal. “I never said anything about sex. How could you corrupt my sweet snake like that?”

You spring to your feet, clutching Jörmy to your chest, and stalk towards him. “You know exactly what you fuckin’ implied there! Snakes don't even have ears!”

“They can hear.”

“Barely! That's still not the point!”

You're standing over him, too close, too tired to care. It's not until his hand touches yours that you get truly flustered and look down. Unfortunately, he's just reaching for the snake to slink around his hand instead. “Perhaps it's time you get some sleep, Lum,” is all Loki tells you. His eyes never left you, but he holds up Jörmy, who flicks her tongue at your nose; it's becoming a familiar gesture. “She agrees.”

You huff and mumble a goodnight to them both before making your exit. Stupid cute Loki and his stupid cute snake.

You're still too awake to truly sleep, but you crawl back into your bed with Finesse, who still does not have a room, and you text her endless notes about how awake you are and how attractive Loki is. A present for her to wake up to.

You wonder, idly, if Loki knows how to text.

The next day, you find out.

When you ask Stark if Loki can text, he gives you a look like you're off your fucking rocker, and maybe you are.

“Why?”

“'Cause I wanna text him.”

“But _why_ do you want to text him?”

“I can send him annoying emoji chain messages.”

He stares at you for at least ten seconds before responding again, “He has a phone. There's not much activity on it, probably because he knows we can see it. Or maybe he just doesn't know how to use it. You wanna text him, that's on you.” He gives you the number to Loki's phone, but before you can leave, says some more. “Listen, kid, I'm not your dad, but--”

“You're right, you're not my dad,” you say a little arrogantly. Stark sighs.

“I _know_. And I know you're an adult. But try to remember that he's killed people, okay? And he's capable of doing it again. Just because I'm giving him a lot of leeway here--”

You cut him off again. “Everyone keeps saying that. Did Bruce put you up to it? Did you put Bruce up to it?”

Stark rubs his eyes. “Go text him. I'm just trying to help, god forbid.”

The room is a little more tense than you'd like, so you stick your tongue out at him before turning and walking out. Should you be heeding all this advice? Maybe. You suck at listening to authority, though.

You sit on the couch in the living space and tap away to the new number in your phone. You haven't put it in as a contact yet in case you typed it wrong or maybe Stark was messing with you or… something.

LUM: Loki?

No response. You sit staring at your phone for a minute before it finally dawns on you that he most likely just leaves the phone in a drawer in his room. With a huff, you put your phone away and start to get up.

_Buzz._

The vibration shocks you before you swear your phone is set to silent, first of all, so you turn that feature back off. Second, you check the notification.

???: Who is this.

Fuck okay that could be a response from anyone. You were hoping for a definitive yes.

LUM: its Ur mom

Nice.

???: No, it's not.

You wait to see if there's any additional messages, but that's it.

LUM: u got me it's ur boy lum

???: Who gave you my number?

LUM: stark

LUM: cuz I asked

LUM: how is jörmy

???: You sought out my number to ask how the snake that you see every other day is.

Okay, yeah, that's Loki. You add the number to your phone.

LUM: im making small talk asshole

LOKI [snake-emoji]: Why.

LUM: (shrug emoji) friendship

LOKI [snake-emoji]: The snake is fine.

LUM: see wasn't that easy??? ok now how are yoooou doing

LOKI [snake-emoji]: You don't care about that.

LUM: wtf yes I do!! why do you reject all my friendly advances

LOKI [snake-emoji]: Habit, perhaps.

You're not sure how to respond to that, so you falter.

LOKI [snake-emoji]: I'm fine.

God, he's giving you nothing here.

LOKI [snake-emoji]: How are you?

Did he just triple text you?! Holy shit. You light up. He's asking how you're doing!

LUM: im BORED

LUM: do you wanna…….. fuckin uhhhh……..

LUM: train

LOKI [snake-emoji]: I'll have to check my very busy schedule first.

LOKI [snake-emoji] : Sure.

Yesssss. Social victories. You head to your usual training space to stretch.

You weren't far from the area in the first place, but somehow, Loki is there first.

“What were you hoping to work on?” he asks. Shrugging, you take off your hoodie.

“I didn't really have anything in mind…”

“What, you just wanted to see me?” He says it with a mocking tone, like it's impossible.

With some reluctance, you say, “Yes?”

“Oh,” he says. Whew. Things keep getting awkward between you two lately, little interactions like this. Loki regains his cool, though. “We need to work more on offensive shapeshifting.”

“Offensive.. shapeshifting?” You're not sure what he means by that. Does he want you to transform into racist imagery? Does Loki know what racism is?

“Offensive tactics. Things you can use to hurt people in a fight.” Oh. That uh, that makes more sense, you think. “You're too weak.”

“Thank you?”

“It's not a compliment or an insult; it's a fact. I could take you out easily. You struggle with evasion, so you need to pack a bigger punch, or you're going to get hurt.” He says these things so matter-of-fact, but you're sensing an underlying tone of… concern? You suppose at this point, after him allowing you into his room regularly, driving with you for five hours, and countless other instances of time spent together, you should know that maybe he cares a little. Your love language is more verbal, though, so any little sign he cares shocks you.

“Stark said he mostly plans to use me as an asset for stealth, though, like pretending to be people and getting info. Is it that important?”

Loki erupts with a short bark of laughter. “ _Is it important?_ What if you get found out? It will happen at some point. And you've been here a while. At some point he _will_ send you on your first real mission. And I don't--” He pauses. “Stark won't want you to be a liability that can't take care of themselves.”

There is a huge temptation to comment on him starting to say that _he_ doesn't want you to get in trouble, but that's a card to play later. You tuck your fluttering heart back in your chest. “Alright, then. What did you have in mind?”

Loki grins. “Finally, you ask.”

Loki walks you through a few of his ideas. He admits that he doesn't often use shapeshifting as an offensive tactic, but since you don't have the rest of the magic he does, he's been doing some thinking. Focusing on his suggestions and not the fact that he willingly thinks about you is a small struggle.

You manage to shift your arms into some stronger, tougher materials. It's not quite bulletproof, probably, but can pack a much tougher punch than your usual flesh. Just the appearance of your arm shifting from skin to metal fascinates you in a way that you know might terrify some opponents. (Loki looks a little confused by how much you love appearing non-human.) For the first time, you start to feel like you might actually be an asset; you land a punch or two that actually wind him. Loki looks almost.. proud of you.

But he never admits it. He keeps encouraging you in the harshest ways; maybe it’s the only way he knows how. As if hearing your thoughts that you might be an asset, he tells you, “You’ll want to aim to not be a _burden_ in a fight if you want to stick around here.”

That stings, and you growl as you swing. “I’m not a burden!” You topple him over, but when he hits the ground, he just… laughs, and looks up to taunt you again.

“Is that all you can manage, DeVico?”

“I just knocked you over, what the fuck does that mean?” You're snapping at him after countless taunts. Your arm shifts larger than it naturally is, and his eyes do widen as you punch again. “And you _know_ my first name!”

“Are you so weak that a name matters so much to you?”

That pisses you off for more reasons than you can count. It pisses you off because it is a chosen name and so integral to your identity, because it is a sign of respect and familiarity, because it is a sign of respect and familiarity from _him_ , and he's used it before, but he still denies it to you like this.

“You piece of shit,” you sneer, pulling back for a punch, shifting your arm larger, tougher. He evades that one casually, and that pisses you off more, so you do it with the other arm, too, but he sees it coming. You keep going, skin rippling in a disgusting way as you try to make yourself bigger and hit him.

Loki is slippery, but he is not perfect. He's quick, but he's quick to move back, and there is only so much back you can move before you hit a wall.

He does hit a wall.

You are larger than you've ever shifted right now, and you're not sure what you look like, but years of pent up queer fury at establishing your name are unfurling as you slam your fists on either side of his head, _just_ missing him, on purpose this time. Loki knows that. Loki gasps.

The noise of that short breath pulls you out of anger and back into your normal self; the normal self that can see fear in his eyes before he connects that you've snapped out of it. You look at your fists, green, and wonder if you shifted Hulk-like subconsciously as a scare tactic. You've gathered that of the few things he fears, the Hulk is one.

Your body is--pulsing, pulsing from the amount of energy you've just exerted. You're shrinking back down, not sure how long you've been running on empty, lactic acid, and muscles burning like actual hell.

Your hands are still planted on either side of Loki's head. Once again, you stand smaller than him, looking up breathlessly with glass eyes. His hands are up; part surrender, part confusion, part alarm that you're still so close?

You manage a short, choppy, “I'm sorry.”

Loki looks more afraid at your apology than he did before. He opens his mouth, closes his mouth.

“I'm sorry,” you repeat.

“Why,” he breathes.

“I didn't mean to--” but your eyes close as you think through your words. Your hands lower to his shoulders and you rest your forehead against his chest. He is deathly still. “I just want you to call me my name.”

“Alright, Lum,” he says quietly. You slide down against him. Loki, with a bit of alarm, picks you up. This is the last thing you recall.

Your own panic does not set in until you wake up without him.

BONUS PIC:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updating again! Comments always appreciated. Also, I got back into Repo, is anyone still into Repo? Cuz I kinda started a Pavi/reader-OC fic. I'm debating posting.


	9. Going Out: Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With foolish optimism, you try to smooth things over by going out again, because definitely nothing will go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry y'all. It's been less than three months, which, granted, is way less time than I've had to wait for some fics to update, but I really did not mean to drop the ball like this. October through early December became an absolute flurry of work, costumes, and performances, and then I binged my way through the Harry Potter movies (I'd never seen them) and that knocked Marvel aside, and then there was family visits and holidays. I am about to start another semester of school among other things, so I can't guarantee how many updates you'll get this spring. But I'm here!!! I was also hitting a writing block that I needed to ride out, but I have no intention of leaving this fic unfinished any time soon.
> 
> Also, side note: sometimes I receive kinda rude feedback on Bruce's presence in Lum's love life. He is not the center of attention, but I have long had a crush on Bruce, and this fic is to make me happy, and I'm not gonna just completely get rid of that element. Lum might even kiss MORE characters eventually, it legitimately depends on who I'm fixated on while writing a chapter. I'm not gonna pretend I can control anyone's actions, but telling me it sucks probably isn't gonna make either of us happy. 
> 
> Anyways, uh, it's almost 6 AM, I haven't slept, have a chapter.

Bruce looks incredibly relieved to see you up. Stark does too, but with a dose of anger.

“What did I tell you about him being dangerous?”

“What?”

“I let you talk to him and you almost get killed!”

“That's not--”

“No, I'm talking, this is serious. You're my liability. This would be on me. I'd have to write a letter to your parents and I hate writing letters.” Stark stops, then: “What did he do?”

“He didn't do anything, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t talk so formal with me when I'm trying to be worried about you!”

“He didn't do anything, Mr. Tony.”

“Smartass,” he sighs. “Tony is fine.”

“Okay.” The idea that this is the breaking point where he dismisses formalities is beyond you. “But he didn't do anything. We were training. I went too hard. This is my own over-exertion.”

“The scans already tell us that. Were you trying to defend yourself?”

“No? Kind of?”

“I knew it!” He is so sure of himself, that this is his gotcha moment, that Loki is in fact evil. 

“No! It's not like that. We were training, well, I was training, he was helping, and he said something that pissed me off, and I just kinda.. went overboard.” You neglect to mention the reason being your name; they wouldn't get it. Bruce looks so, so concerned right now, and Stark-- _ Tony _ just looks mad. There's a bit of silence before you pipe up again. “Did he carry me here?” Bruce and Tony exchange a glance. 

Bruce speaks. “Yes. He left you outside the door, knocked, and was gone when I opened. We only know because of the footage.”

He carried you here. Tony continues to speak, something about how you need to be more careful and you shouldn't be in the training areas unattended, but all you can think of is the fact that Loki picked you up and carried you here after  _ you _ almost beat the shit out of him. It's a strange time to get butterflies, but you have them.

“Are you listening to me, kid?”

“Stop calling me kid!”

“Then don't act like one!” You glare at each other before he caves and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Are you listening to me, Lum?”  _ Smartass _ , you think, but you're not bold enough to say that out loud right now. 

“Yes, Tony.”

He stares at you. 

“Be more careful.”

Tony Stark leaves the room, and you watch him go. You inhale and exhale,  _ loudly _ , as you digest this interaction.

“Are you okay, Lum?” It's Bruce. 

“I'm in one piece.”

“I don't mean physically. Your charts are all good, you're fine, just tired. But are you okay from whatever Loki said?”

_ Are _ you okay? You have to think about it. He pissed you off, but when doesn't he? He's just.. like that. In that moment, he was also probably just trying to rile you up for fighting purposes. And he said okay and carried you here when you collapsed. 

“Yes.” You decide that you are okay and that you will speak as such. “He was just being an asshole. Like he always is.”

“Then why do you keep hanging around him?” Bruce asks. At this, you shrug with a sheepish expression on your face. There's no reasonable excuse for actively wanting to be around Loki, really. Bruce sighs and stands up, and cautiously puts a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “Listen, I.. I care. So if something happens, you can always reach out to me.”

He is awkward but genuine. You reach up and take his hand, holding it in front of you with both of your own. As you lean forward, resting your forehead against his hand, you murmur, “I appreciate it.”

Bruce leans down to kiss your forehead. After a few moments he retracts himself from your touch and heads for the door. “I've gotta get going. You should eat something; come on, I'll walk you to the kitchen.” So you get up and he does, and you treasure the quiet walk down the halls together, pushing away all anxious thoughts of Loki. 

Anxiety does always have a way of finding you, though. It's not as though you expect Loki to text to see how you're doing (though you wish he would) but you  _ did _ leave off on a rocky moment.

So the next day, when you still haven't seen Loki again, and you're nervous to go to his room directly, you decide to text him.

LUM: loki?

You start off pretty simple, and receive no immediate response. You're still sore from yesterday, and you haven't actually told anyone the full story, not even Finesse, despite questions. It's just… how do you explain that all?

Against your better judgment, five minutes later, you text again.

LUM: im sorry about yesterday

LUM: are you mad? I understand if you are but if I can do anything let me know ok

You are treating Loki like… well, any other person. He could easily be laughing at you for being so tender but you really do care and you want to show that, for better or for worse. After waiting a bit, you find that he still hasn't responded, so you need to get up and do something else with your day. 

_ Maybe Stark yelled at him _ , you think. Maybe he’s not supposed to talk to you. One last text won’t hurt.

LUM: if stark yelled at you i just wanna be clear that i told him u didnt do anything ok? Idk why he got all dad over this

As swiftly as you hit send, you turn your phone to airplane mode and toss it (too carelessly) on your desk.  _ Sure hope that doesn’t crack _ , comes your rational brain. Your rational brain follows up by walking you through the fact that this is all a little absurd, that you could go talk to him, but also if we’re being super rational you probably shouldn’t talk to him at all. The emotional half is a rollercoaster of social panic right now. A blend of your rational brain and emotional brain tell you that you’ve been successfully out of therapy for far too long to let  _ this _ spiral you into a state of despair.

One thing you learned to do when you’re spiraling is… sleep. So you close your eyes and drift.

You drift for about five minutes before Finesse decides it’s time to come say hi.

“Buddy?” she asks. All you offer is a groan and keep your eyes shut as you pull a pillow over your face. “Is this a bad time?”

“A little,” you say into the pillow.

“Okay,” says Finesse. There’s a minute of silence where you know she has not left the room, so you lift the pillow and look at her questioningly. “Oh, sorry, I--I was just gonna sit here with you till you felt like talking. But I have good news if you want something to be happy about!”

“What is it?”

“I’ve got my own room,” she says eagerly, sitting down at your desk chair. “Mr. Stark is taking me on the same internship thing he did for you, which like, is  _ great _ because I have been trying to find a job for the past couple months since I graduated. It’s not exactly what I majored in but you know how the economy is. But, but anyway you have your room back and I won’t interrupt your online classwork focusing time anymore!”

Placing the pillow under your head to prop you up, you say, “That’s great!” as Finesse does a little happy dance in your chair. “We’re a long way from home, huh?” She nods, clearly a bit sad, but still excited to have a gig. Both of you’ve come from way south of New York, and everything has happened so fast.

“So what’re you so sad about? Is it Loki?” The second question follows before you can even think about answering.

“Yes,” is the defeated reply.

“Did he do something? ‘Cause Mr. Stark seemed pretty mad when I ran into him last night but he wouldn’t give me any details. And when I saw Loki he glared at me more than he usually does and didn’t even roll his eyes when I said hi. And then Thor seemed upset, too when we saw each other in the kitche--”

“Is anyone  _ not _ upset?”

“Bruce smiled at me!”

“Thank god for that. Uh, Loki and I got into a little argument and I collapsed while we were fighting--training fighting, so we’re clear, we weren’t trying to kill each other!--and that… really set off Star--Tony. It set off Tony, who I am now on first name basis with, I think? And Loki won’t text me back! And I’m pissed.” With one last dramatic flourish of your hands, you end your explanation.

“Loki has a phone?”

“That’s not the point, Finesse!” Your voice comes out quick and snappy;  _ breathe _ . “He has a phone and we were texting and everything was fine but I feel like every time I start to talk to him one of us pisses each other off.”

“To be fair, he’s got a pissy attitude in general.”

“Maybe so,” you say, crossing your arms. Still on your back, you stare defiantly at the ceiling so as not to give her the power of eye contact that would say she is totally 100% right.

“Have you talked to him in person since this all happened?” Of course she’s gonna be the voice of reason.

“Why the fuck would I do something that makes sense and would actually help me reach any of my goals?”

“Damn, you’re right, that’d be too easy,” Finesse agrees, nodding solemnly. 

Your arms remained cross, your eyes on the ceiling, and a pout on your face. Finesse doesn’t say anything to change the subject, and you lay very obstinately still for a moment longer in hopes that she will. Still, she does not.

You GROOOAAAANNNNN. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Nice! I’ve gotta go organize my new room. Lemme know how it goes!”

It takes another moment or two of internal convincing before you really do peel yourself off your bed. When you do, you part ways with Finesse at your door. She seems hilariously confident that this will go well; you know better, but you will try anyway.

At Loki’s door, you steel your nerves and knock.

Nothing.

Knock knock. “Loki?”

Nothing.

Knock knock knock. “I am mostly positive that you’re in there and you can’t ignore me forever!”

You think you hear a stir, but you’re not giving him another moment of silence if he really is in there. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KN--

“ _ Lum _ ,” he hisses, opening the door and very nearly getting a knock on his chest. “I was getting up. What do you want? Is it time for another beating? Do you want to get me truly thrown out of here at your whims?”

“That’s not fair! I told you in my text that I told him the truth!”

“That didn’t seem to deter him from trying to intimidate me the best his frail human body can manage.”

“You have literally  _ never _ cared about his opinion before th--are you wearing a robe?” You take in his form. He definitely is wearing a robe, and you didn’t notice because you managed to get into a heated debate the moment he opened the door. He looks like… a bit of a mess.

“Yes,” he says.

“It’s, like, 2 in the afternoon.”

“I was having a ‘ _ Me Day,’ _ as you might call it.”

You scrunch up your nose, detecting a lie somewhere. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t know,” he says, examining his nails as if you’re not even there. “I think I feel rather unsafe around you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Loki.” It is not a question.

“You tried to kill me,” he says. You know he’s playing some kind of game now and you cock up an eyebrow. He continues. “Perhaps I should ask Stark to speak with you.”

“I’m getting the feeling Stark isn’t the one who wants to speak with me,” you say with a sigh, shifting your weight to your right side, looking at your own nails now.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean,” Loki says, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I need to speak with Stark anyway, I think I heard a snake’s been kept in the building, unauthorized.”

“And I wonder who brought it?”

“The snake? I think it came with Thor.” You catch Loki into a surprised, quick laugh with that. You stop examining your nails to look up at him.

“Cheeky brat,” he replies. “No one’s  _ ever _ called me a snake before, how original.”

Loki is leaning casually against the door he’s holding open, and you lean in against the frame of the door, half a foot apart from each other. This eye contact is too long, so you sigh, and say, “Can I please come in?”

“Fine.”

Instinctively, you go to pick up Jörmy, and stop yourself just a step away from her tank. You look up at Loki, who is watching you from the foot of his bed. This feels strange.

“Are you really mad at me?”

“Mad is… not the word. I’m not sure how I feel about you right now, Lum,” and you relish him saying your first name, “but it isn’t anger.”

“Well are you  _ upset _ ?”

“Perhaps.”

“What can I do?” You ask this question and Loki squints.

“What you  _ should _ do is stop trying to get close to me.” Nooooooo, you don’t want that. “But I’m not going to tell you to do that, because you clearly don’t take direction.”  _ Phew _ . One of his hands is placed thoughtfully against his jaw, and he lets it cascade down his throat and to the collar of his robe, where his fingers play with the satin. You watch these movements carefully, longingly, before he speaks again. His eyes are on the wall where all reason says a window should be, but perhaps that would’ve been too picturesque a request for a war criminal. “What you  _ could _ do is get me out of here again.”

“I really don’t think Tony wants anymore trouble from us,” you start.

“Tony? You’ve gotten quite familiar with him.” Loki waves his hand. “I don’t mean breaking out. I mean he clearly values you, and I want you to request for us to be outside with  _ permission _ .”

“You’ve got a lot of faith in my sway on him,” you mumble.

At some point Loki has lifted himself and walked towards you, fingers playing at the edge of his robe again. “Faith isn’t something I’ve had much of for a long time. I do, however, think you can manage this.” It’s unclear to even your mind if it’s his closeness, the fact that you can see the top of his chest under a black satin robe, or his faith-trust-thoughts-whatever in your ability to sway Tony Stark into letting you both out, but at least one of those things plays into you smirking up at him and deciding to take the challenge.

\--

Convincing Tony does not go quite as smoothly as you had hoped; it takes a lot of whinging and convincing for him to agree. It becomes a necessary piece of the bargain that Thor supervises an excursion with Loki, which you don’t think he’ll be too happy about, but hopefully he appreciates that you made an effort.

“We have to go with my  _ brother _ ?” he sneers. Okay, he appreciates it a little less than you had hoped for.

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Loki, but he has about a hundred and a half reasons not to trust you out and about with just me as an chaperone.”

“You’re not  _ chaperoning _ me, I’m a grown man! And you didn’t seem very powerless the other day!”

“Would you stop whining about that?! If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to go,” you say, hoping some sort of ultimatum will sway him to calm down.

“Ugh! Fine.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Bring your friend to distract him a bit.”

“Are you sur--”

“Yes!”

“Jesus, alright.”

So you end up inviting Finesse out with you, Loki, and Thor. There is a skittish excitement in both of your eyes that neither of you address for a while before she slowly says, “It's kinda like a double date.”

“As much as I'd like to think so, that's probably not true, at least on my end.”

“It's no more real for me than for you!” Finesse barks at you quietly, but the blush in her cheeks says otherwise. You raise your eyebrows. “We haven't done anything, he's just very friendly and I am a very soft and gentle girl and I wouldn't say no if he kissed me!”

“I don't think he'd say no if you asked him to, either, is all  _ I'm _ saying,” you tut, grabbing your jacket. You find yourself checking yourself out in the mirror for fear of missing some glaring problem with your outfit. “Do I look okay?” The words come out without thought.

“Yes! Aren't you worried about your thighs chafing under the skirt though?” Finesse knows you well; you bitch and moan at the end of any day you don't wear pants.

“Way ahead of you,” you say, shamelessly lifting your skirt. Finesse's scandalised expression fades to pride when she sees you wearing shorts. 

“Niiiice!” is the last thing she says before you head out to the lot together. 

Waiting by the car, Thor looks delighted to see the two of you. Loki looks pissed, just in general, perhaps partially because he has to shift his appearance to be out in public alongside Thor. However, he straightens up when his eyes meet yours. Weird.

Mild greetings are exchanged (is anything mild when Thor says it?) as you get in the car. One tier of adulthood you've always failed to reach is driving, Finesse isn't comfortable driving much herself, and Tony doesn't trust Thor and Loki behind the wheel for reasons of Thor not knowing how to drive and Loki being Loki. So, Happy is driving again, much to his very clear chagrin.

You and Finesse struggle not to acknowledge this as the double date you want it to be. Thor seems just happy to be there and chats with you both, while Loki stares out the window. This definitely isn't what he had in mind, so you pull out your phone. 

LUM: sorry

You see him stiffen at the buzzing in his pocket; he pulls his phone out and eyes you curiously when he sees the notification.

LOKI: For?

LUM: i know this isnt what you had in mind……

You see him snort quietly.

LOKI: Your failings in negotiation are what they are. At least I'm getting out of this shithole.

LUM: let's be real we live in a nice fuckin place it just sucks not being able 2 leave 

LUM: also what exactly r we doing? I haven't really planned anything here besides happy is taking us to lunch

LOKI: I had initially hoped to cause some innocent mischief with you, but given our company, we can start with something more acceptable.

LUM: which is…..????

LOKI: I don't know. Shopping?

You laugh out loud, catching Thor and Finesse's attention. You manage to dismiss it to Thor, but Finesse is sitting next to you and gives you a brief knowing smile when she sees who you're texting. Loki puts his phone away; you sigh and accept the end of that conversation. Instead, you text Finesse while she chats aloud to Thor.

LUM: he's so fcking cute omg even when he's shifted im gonna scream

FINESSE: LOL he looks so mad!! Also I can't believe you're texting me while we're in the car together

LUM: well I can't say it out LOUD

FINESSE: you should

FINESSE: like “Loki you're so cute!!! I want to be your sweet goddex!!” And then he goes “oh lum I've waited for you to ask” and then you kiss and run off! This is definitely what would happen.

LUM: VERY FUNNY

You glare at her in real life, which she hardly notices as she becomes engrossed in her chatter with Thor. You're not even sure what they're talking about, but at least they're having fun. 

For the most part, the day seems to be passing uneventfully. You all get lunch, which Happy rushes you through. You shop, which Happy rushes you through. Every time Happy expresses his desire to get this over with, Loki looks ready to kill. It's entertaining, to say the least, but all you can think about is how much you wish you could be just roaming with Loki one on one again.

Almost as if reading your mind, Loki grabs your wrist and pulls you into a shop as the others walk ahead. He clasps his hand over your mouth before you can make any noise.

“Loki!” You hiss against his hand, which he pulls away before anyone in the shop notices. You look around; it's a bookstore. Your confusion is evident on your features.

“I couldn't just walk around with them all day. Those two won't notice for at least a few minutes,” he says, pulling you behind a tall bookshelf and shifting his appears yet again. “Shift so they won't find us too quickly.”

You sigh as you become a taller, slimmer feminine form, and you think you see disappointment flash over his eyes as he gives you a once-over. It's gone as soon as it comes. “Is your idea of causing mischief sneaking into a bookstore?”

“No, I just enjoy reading, believe it or not.” Fair enough, you suppose. You watch him flip through book after book, seeing his disappointment with the majority of Earth literature. He looks at you. “Do you people have anything good to read?”

“I'm not much of a reader, honestly. I prefer visual entertainment.” Loki regards you with a very calculating disdain for this statement. “Dude, I read all the time for classes, I just want to unwind and watch shit sometimes!” Your volume fluctuates as you raise your voice, get shushed mid-sentence by another patron, and lower it again. Loki snickers, so you smile at the involuntary yelp he lets out when you step on his foot heading to the next aisle. “Oops! Sorry.”

You grow bored in this tiny book store, so you end up heading back out. You do not make it far when a very disgruntled man appears.

“Loki,” says the man. 

“Not you again,” says Loki at approximately the same time you say, “What the fuck?”

“You know what's about to happen,” says the man, and you see a portal appear beneath Loki. You latch onto him just in time for you to both fall into it, as well as for the man to let out a string of curses at this development. 

You keep falling.

\--

Falling sucks. You are screaming and holding onto Loki for dear life while the two of you are forced back into your basic forms.

Falling really sucks.

God damn it this is horrible. 

\--

You finally collapse on the floor of a very nice mansion with Loki, who is furious as he stands up. 

“I have been falling  _ again _ for--” starts Loki. 

“Thirty minutes, I know,” finishes the man. 

“To be fair I did agree I wouldn't let you back on Midgard,” says Thor, and then with more force, “and I’ve been  _ looking _ for you! Our good friend Finesse was worried!”

“What is going  _ on _ ?” you demand.

Everyone else is standing as you remain on the floor to get your bearings. Slowly, you lift yourself, into a sitting position. The man offers his hand to you and you scowl; Loki offers his hand and you take it. 

“Who's she?”

“ _ They _ ,” you and Loki snap at the same time. You look at him, but he is fixated on this newfound enemy.

“What?”

“My pronouns.”

“...Right. Anyway, Thor, you did tell me you wouldn't let Loki on earth again.”

“See, about that, Mr. Strange…,” Thor starts. This dude's name is Strange?

“It's  _ Doctor  _ Strange.”

“Right. So about that, we had a bit of an issue with our home planet, the issue being that it kind of blew up…” Thor is stumbling over his words and you are still  _ so _ confused. Where is Finesse? Where are  _ you _ ?

“Hi, hey, sorry to interrupt, but where are we, and why?” You ask, hands on your hips. Doctor Strange regards you with slight irritation.

“Doctor Strange,” he says, extending his hand. You don't shake it. He retracts slowly. “A defender of the Earth. Particularly against dangerous entities like Loki.”

You cross your arms and look unimpressed as Loki finally cuts in to say, “Just so we are clear, I have no destructive plans for this realm currently.”

“ _ Currently? _ ” You, Strange, and Thor all speak at once.

“Alright, ever again!” Loki speaks with the tone of someone being forced to quit smoking, which somehow makes the most sense out of anything going on. 

After a pause, “Doctor Strange” flat out ignores Loki as he continues speaking to Thor about something involving making deals and keeping this earth safe from people like Loki, etc, so on. You don't understand much here, but you've gathered that you don't like this guy much. 

“Excuse me!” you say, trying to reign this in again. Everyone looks to you. “I was kind of having a day out with my friends and you’ve  _ kind of _ put a damper on this. Do you have any proof Loki is currently doing something bad?”

“I have reasonable suspicion based on--”

“Okay, but like, do you have anything right  _ now _ , because I would like to remind you I’m an innocent,” and you put your hands to your chest very dramatically, “that you caught in your crusade against someone just trying to go shopping.”

Doctor Strange squints at you, frustrated but without words. “Why should I believe that he was just going shopping? He could’ve hurt you, an  _ innocent _ .”

“Ohhh my god,” you start. “I am so fucking sick of everyone acting like he’s gonna snap me in half. He hasn’t hurt me! Except when he stepped on my back while we were fighting but like I’m over that, okay, you should be too! And I’m just--I’m just-- _ look _ at him!” You motion frantically to Loki. “Look at his black suit and his black tie  _ and _ his black shirt! He’s just a dumb fucking goth that I’d like to spend time with without interruption  _ just _ once!” You’re feeling pretty incensed now, trying to find something else to say before Doctor Strange can open his big mouth again. “And you’ve. You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk about someone seeming evil when you have that facial hair!” There.

Doctor Strange strokes his goatee defensively as he digests your words. “That was low,” he starts; you can feel practiced anger management techniques raging behind his shitty face. You put your hands back on your hips and keep glaring, unrelenting. “I’ve been observing since he came back to Earth. He hasn’t… done anything, this time,  _ yet _ . But I have reason to be suspicious.” There’s a silence that shocks you, because when don’t these two gods have something to say? “You,” Strange says finally, jabbing a finger in Thor’s direction. “I expect you to be watching him, do you understand me?”

“I understand, Strange Man.”

“It’s just Strange.”

“I know.”

Doctor Strange huffs, closes his eyes, and breathes. “Alright, fine. I will let this happen for now. But don’t think I’m not watching.” He does some weird shit with his hands and another portal opens (you’ve never seen a straight up magic portal, this is kinda rad) and motions for you to leave. No one does, and he barks, “Go!”

The two brothers still hesitate, so you walk between them, grabbing their arms, and pull all three of yourselves through, begrudging as they may act about it. 

Strange has elected to deposit you right back on a sidewalk where Finesse seems to have been searching frantically with Happy. “Long story,” you say, which Happy looks entirely too done to even deal with. You’re sure he’ll tell Stark later, but for now the field trip is over.

As you get back in the car, Loki mutters, “I am not a dumb fucking goth.”

“Sure,” you reply. Too much has happened for you to even argue, to Loki’s surprise.

To  _ your _ surprise, Tony doesn’t yell at you when you’re back. He seems intent on investigating this Doctor Strange person, but he doesn’t yell at you. You gather that it’ll be a minute before Loki’s next outing, though.

“That didn’t go how you were hoping it would, did it?” you ask him when the others have walked off.

“Impressively far from anything I would’ve hoped for, but about right for what I should’ve expected,” he says, sighing. You frown, but he simply says, “It’s fine. I’m used to disappointments.” That’s a whole entire mood, but you aren’t content with someone other than yourself being discontent. Only you can be unhappy!

(You're also not really ready to stop being around him yet today after that mess of an outing.)

“You know what, no, you’re not gonna be used to disappointments today. This building has every goddamn streaming service known to man and we can afford to rent a movie on prime. You like theatre. We’re watching musicals.”

Loki seems skeptical, but follows you. “We’re watching what?”

“Musicals,” you say over your shoulder. “Did y’all only have straight plays on Asgard?”

“I’m going to have to say that’s the case.” Huh. That’s interesting. You know American musicals are a relatively new thing and Asgard probably doesn’t have broadway, but the idea that things like Rent and Hairspray and all the other mainstream musicals you grew up on just don’t exist or even have an equivalent baffles you to some degree.

“They're pretty great. It's like all the drama of regular theatre, but they sing and dance.” You're walking ahead of movie, so you can't see him opening his mouth to protest, but you know he is. “And yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds. You gotta suspend your disbelief for the sake of some good tunes.” You can hear Loki sigh, and you can practically  _ feel _ him roll his eyes. You hear no verbal protest, though, and smile to yourself as you open your door. 

You hand is on the handle when it occurs to you he's never been in your room. Is he going to judge the hell out of you? You probably have clothes on the floor. His room is so tidy. It takes a quiet inhale and a lot of courage to open your door; Loki follows you and inspects.

“This is where you sleep?”

“Listen, I know it's messy but you don't need to--”

“No, no,” he says, holding his hand up. “It's.. cozy.” He looks around. “Small, but cozy.”

“Yeah, well we don't all get luxurious god chambers, sorry.” You turn on your TV and cast your computer screen to it, a luxury Tony  _ did _ give you. “We're gonna watch fuckin’... I don't know. What kind of stories do you like?”

“Hmm. Suspense. Drama. Perhaps some bloodlust--death is a staple.” He says it all casually and you run through your options mentally, not sure he really understands what he's in for.

“...Right. We're gonna watch Chicago.”

“Sure.”

So you pull up the movie, ending up having to rent it, and hop on your bed, patting next to you. Loki delicately takes a seat while you wiggle in excitement, with a clear confusion at your enthusiasm. The opening number plays, oozing sex in every syllable sung and every shimmy done, taking him quite off guard.

And it keeps taking him off guard.

He does not actually enjoy the movie as much as you hoped he might. He frequently turns to to ask questions, why they're singing about this serious topic, what that means, why this is all so ridiculous. About half an hour in, you pause the movie and fall back on your bed, hands on your face.

“I don't know why I thought you'd like this.” 

“What?”

“I just,” you start, holding your hands out above you, motioning vaguely. “I wanted to make the day better after that outing, and we both love theatre, so I thought maybe you'd like this because it's movies made based on theatrical works, but it's--it's pretty different from what you're used to, I know. Sorry.” You close your eyes again as your hands fall back down to your face, and exhale loudly.

“I'm not having a bad time, Lum,” he says quietly. 

You peek through your fingers. “You're not?”

“No. I don't necessarily understand what we're watching--it's certainly not anything I've seen before. But I,” he pauses, thinking. His next words come out as if he's pulling his own teeth. “I don't… hate this.”

You're smiling stupidly by the time he finishes talking. “Awwww, Loki, are you saying you like hanging out with me?”

“I didn't say that!”

“Loki, of Asgard, likes hanging out with me,” you say proudly. 

“You're putting words in my mouth.” 

You ask, “And what are you going to do about it?”

There is something fierce about the way he looks at you after those words, but not quite hostile. He's leaning over you more than you remember a moment ago. As his eyes narrow and he opens his mouth to retaliate, he seems entertained.

Before he can speak, both your phones buzz with the stupid inescapable ringtone Tony chose for group alerts, earning a string of quiet curses from you. The noise seems to sober Loki into pulling back and checking his device. 

“Group meeting,” you read. “Must be serious if even we got the text.”

“Must be,” Loki responds, sounding almost.. distracted. He stands easily and heads for your door. “Well, see you there.” He's gone before you can protest, so you scramble up and hurry down the hall. He couldn't even walk with you? Jerk. Cute pretty gorgeous jerk. 

Tony seems mildly bothered when you all gather together; even Vision is there, surprisingly, though he does nothing more than nod in your direction. 

“We've got a little media problem,” Tony starts. “Among other things, stories have started circulating about Cap again, which is not painting Stark Industries in a great light, much less any of us. So,” he declares, “our short term solution is some quick, good press.”

There's a moment of silence before he continues, so after chewing on the mention of Captain America, you realize no one is speaking. Slowly, you speak up: “What is the quick, good press?”

“Well, Lum, after some advising,” Tony says, and he seems to be taking his sweet time answering you, glancing briefly to Bruce and back to you, “you're the newest Avenger.”

You feel as if glass has shattered in your brain.

“ _ What? _ ”

 

 

 

**BONUS IMAGE:**

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a drawing not by me. I got this commissioned pretty early on in this story's development and I still love it. If you want cute art for good prices from a cool person, hit up @rollapoid on twitter!
> 
> Have a good day!!!


	10. Joining the Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are made an official Avenger. Loki doesn't feel too hot about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. I've had most of this chapter written for months, but couldn't figure out how to end it. You know when you get to the point in a story where the characters start finally acknowledging they like each other and you're like oh my god what do I do? That's where I'm at. THIS IS WHY I JUST START A MILLION STORIES AND DROP THEM BUT I'M GONNA BREAK THE CYCLE.
> 
> I saw Endgame, also, and that kind of re-inspired me. There are no spoilers in this chapter, I promise! I might reference Infinity War/Endgame later in the story but right now we're rollin' along in our little offshoot AU where those haven't happened. I would like to be HAPPY right now.

Things have been a bit of a blur since Tony decided to make that announcement. He just… decides that you’re joining the Avengers. Finesse, too. Empowering the youth or something. Good press.

But not Loki.

Like, maybe Loki doesn’t necessarily need empowering, but it troubles you that you have suddenly been accepted and he hasn’t. Has Tony decided he’s officially not worthy? What’s going to happen to Loki? You are more than a little bothered by this, but you try not to show it. You just don’t want him to go, and you especially don’t want to be responsible for him going. You were too bewildered in the meeting to ask then, and ever since then your interactions with Tony have been sparse; you’ve mostly interacted with others on his behalf. 

Finesse, for one, is happy. She feels concern for your predicament, but has far more faith in the universe to work itself out than you do. Finesse concerns herself with the fact that she’ll get to work with a hunk like Thor, that she’ll basically get  _ paid _ to heal him, which means touching him, and also the fact that she’ll get paid at all. You envy her simplicity on the matter.

Loki has not spoken to you since. You go to his room to visit the snake, but he is not there--like, actually not there. You hear absolutely no stir when you knock as you normally would. You see him in passing around the compound but he brushes past you and your anxiety wraps up around your throat viciously so you cannot call out.

“Are you mad?” you ask him one day, finally.

“About what?” he replies.

“You know… me getting in.” Loki scoffs at this. You press, “I’m serious. What does that mean for you? Has Tony spoken with you?” But your words barely get out as Loki manages to shrug tensely and keep moving. You frown as he passes. Throughout your stay, he has managed to be close with you one day and a world apart the next. The whiplash hurts your head and your heart.

You try to take comfort in the fact that Tony has given you a nice allowance to get dressed up for the press release on your joining the Avengers. You waver between a dress and a suit for a while, but ultimately decide to stick with a dress--presenting feminine is easier, safer. For a moment, your mind lingers on the idea of a green and gold dress, something to symbolize Loki, but that feels a bit bold given you’re not  _ together _ and, knowing him, he’d find a way to take it as an insult.

Black it is, then. You wear black most of the time anyway; being casually goth came far before Loki. Everyone expects it from you. And, if you’re being honest, you look damn good in it. The dress you settle on has a halter top, cut lower than Tony might like, but who doesn’t love some professional slut realness? The dress does not allow a bra, which leaves you with the idea of Loki unclasping the neck and you just  _ spilling _ out into his hands. Wait, no, god damn it, bad Lum. Redirect. Okay. The back of the dress is open, leaving you with bare skin about halfway down your back where the dress comes together at the zipper and glides snug over your hips. The shoes, you decide, will be black heels, ankle strapped, with silver rhinestones that you add delicately as a reminder of the performances you participated in before moving here. You are confident in few things, but you know your fashion is  _ good _ . Too good for this event? Quite possibly, but that’s not gonna fucking stop you today or ever.

You’re doing your makeup for the night, patting powder down over your foundation when Tony calls you. You set the phone to speaker and keep going.

“Hey, kid.”

“Not a kid,” you reply, brushing away excess powder and pulling out your contour brush. Tony grunts in response.

“Anyway, event is in an hour. You got everything together? You sure you don’t want the makeup team to come to you like they’re doing for Finesse?”

“Pretty sure.” Tony offered countless times, possibly out of fear of whatever exaggerated makeup you’ll show up in, to have your makeup done professionally. You responded with theatrics about the sacredness of makeup in your process and, more seriously, insisted that you’re doing your own face. It was with great trepidation that he allowed this.

“Alright,” he said awkwardly, about to hang up, but you spoke before he could.

“I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“What happens to Loki after this?”

“Sorry, I think the call is cutting out--”

“I can  _ hear _ you crumpling paper, it is not!” you snap. “What will happen to him?”

Resigned, Tony says, “We can talk about that later.”

“No, we’re talking--”

“ _ Later _ , Lum.”

“Fine,” you hiss. “But we  _ will _ talk about it.” You can feel Tony’s desire to end this and grant him a, “See you in an hour,” but you can’t stop thinking about the potential for social disaster here.

Somehow, though, it all goes smoothly.

You arrive, Tony gives you a scolding glare upon seeing your bright makeup and low dress, and you walk on stage anyway. There are cameras everywhere and you've never felt so simultaneously important and worthless. The sensation is fascinating.

Questions are asked and you answer as mildly as possible about your desire to make a difference. Finesse, at your side, is far more eager and nearly jumps on each question asked, though the jumpiness might come from the fact that you're both 20-somethings with anxiety. The enthusiasm is something you wish you had right now, nonetheless.

You do love the attention, though. There's no beating around that. As weird as this all feels, you have no problem standing poised and tilting your head to your good side, smiling serenely at the cameras and explaining your pronouns to the public because there's no way you're gonna have to see the wrong pronouns in these people's articles without at least letting them know they're wrong first.

On that note, you're asked for your alias. Pause. You had one planned, but you haven't said it on mic yet.

“My name is Mx. Gender,” you say smoothly. There is a ruffle of confusion while you explain Mx. as a variant to Mr. and Mrs. You can tell the majority of the crowd doesn't get it, but your condition to go through with this was that you would not hide your gender identity; that you would wear it proudly.

You glance to the sidelines and you can see Loki there, shockingly. It catches you off guard; your breath hitches and your eyes widen, but a great effort is made to stay focused on the task at hand. You keep glancing back to make sure he's really there--he is. You wish you could see his face better but there's no way he's pleased about this.

“That about wraps things up for tonight,” Tony says, clapping his hands together in a grandiose gesture. “The kids have training tomorrow to keep all of you safe, so let's all go our separate ways to celebrate, yeah?”

The crowd murmurs, but disperses. 

Thus, the after-party begins.

You've never drank with the team before. You're old enough, legally, but drinking was never a group activity for you all. There's fancy catering snacks provided by Tony, which you repeatedly call “horse divorces” and insist that's the correct pronunciation. Finesse laughs in confusion momentarily, then joins in on these shenanigans. This drives him just as nuts as you hoped.

You may be heavy-set physically, but alcohically--a word you're not sure is real, but you refuse to look it up--you are a lightweight. Thor is on his sixth pint while you finish one amaretto sour, which leaves you both equally tipsy.

“You alright?” This question comes from Tony. You were lost in thought, brought back as he gently takes your glass from your hand and replaces it with a water bottle.

“Do you want to be my father, or do you just do this naturally?” you ask.

“For every alcoholic drink you should drink a glass of water,” comes his automated response. You laugh.

“Yes, I took the drug and alcohol safety courses in university.” You fiddle with the bottle before finally getting it to open, taking a drink, and looking back at him. “We still need to talk about L--”

“Tomorrow.”

“Will he be here tomorrow?”

“Lum, you're drunk.”

“Tipsy.”

“We will talk about this tomorrow.”

Before you can protest again, Tony gets up and goes to chat with Thor. Grinding your teeth, you go to talk to Finesse, but she's busy actually enjoying the party and you don't want to disturb her fun. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne and slipping out unceremoniously.

That person wasn't here before.

That's Loki.

With a glance around, you head to the bar Tony provided the party with for another drink, firmly setting down the water bottle and ordering a Manhattan. Momma's got some work to do.

Your shoes click loudly on the tile floor of the halls. These were not made for stealth. The figure you're sure is Loki is ahead of you, not even turning to see who it is. You're sure he knows. He's not trying to lose you, so you accept your presence known. 

“Did you get tired of their adoration?” Loki asks when he stops, at the shared kitchen. You lean against the doorway, watching him from behind.

“It was more of a scolding for being tipsy than any adoration.”

“How horrible your life is that someone cares about you.”

“You  _ are _ mad.”

Loki doesn't say anything. He's popping the bottle open and pouring himself a drink. When he finishes this action, he turns and leans against the counter, champagne glass held delicately in his left hand, his other arm crossed.

“I didn't choose this.”

“You accepted it.”

“Do you think I had a choice?”

“You've had a choice at every turn being here, Lum. I don't have the luxury of going anywhere.”

He's being stubborn for no reason. You down the rest of your drink (you sipped most of it while walking) and walk towards him, stumbling a bit in your heels. Loki, surprisingly, sets his drink down quickly and moves forward to steady you. When you look up, you make eye contact and falter. Loki looks away. 

“Stunning that they'd let someone with so little grace win over me.” His words are venomous, but his hands still hold your arms tenderly. You scowl.

“Loki, I know you think you're better than me, but you're not. But..” Where are you going with this? “But I'm not better than you either. I've been trying to talk to you about this all week! I'm not going to let Tony get rid of you because of this!”

“And what incentive do you have to help me?”

“My incentive is I fucking like you, Loki! Why won't you let me like you?!” You shove him back, breaking his grip on your arms. “And don't do the shit where you ask why I like you! I don't know why I like you. You're a shitty asshole and you talk down to me but  _ sometimes _ you're nice and just--I wish for a goddamn second that you'd stop pushing me away when I'm the only person besides your brother who wants to help you!”

Your hands dig into his chest as he looks down at you with wide eyes. Well, wide for Loki. You can see his thinly veiled shock at your words as he opens his mouth, searching for something rude to say, something to distance the two of you. You grip his suit tightly. 

He doesn't say anything. You let out a growl of frustration and push back against him, making to leave, but you stumble again, foolishly drunk after this past drink.

Loki catches you.

"You're confusing, do you know that?" 

"Of course I know that. Everyone I've ever known makes sure I'm aware." You try to remove yourself from his arms, but he holds you firmly. You could get used to this. "I want to pet our snake."

Loki, instead of arguing the "our," lets go of you. At first you think he's going to ignore you, but he grabs some snacks and starts steering you down the hall. You follow him in silence, sizing him up next to you. When you make it to his quarters, he sets down a glass of water for you and instructs you to drink at least half the glass before placing Jörmy in your hands.

"I never took you for someone to nurture drunks," you muse. 

"I'm usually not. If you were Thor, I'd have left you to stumble around the kitchen."

"So you like me more than Thor?"

Loki doesn't answer. He just watches you and pops a grape in his mouth, chewing pensively.

“Does it ever make you tired?” you ask.

“Does what?”

“Pushing us away.” No immediate protest. “It makes me think of middle school. I got made fun of a lot, but when someone actually tried to be my friend, I said dumb mean shit to seem cool. I wasn’t very cool though.” You adjust the snake. “I was just lonely. And a fucking bitch.”

“I have been alive  _ far _ longer than you, and my problems are  _ much _ more complex, and--”

You let out a loud, long groan of frustration and unbuckle your ankle straps with one hand. This is quite the feat, because you can barely do that sober. Jörmy starts making it up to your neck by the time you decide to involve both hands. When you’re freed of your heels, you pick up Jörmy and set her back in her enclosure, followed by a quick squirt of conveniently placed hand sanitizer to wash off your hands.

You realize that Loki never kept talking when you cut him off. You turn, and he’s watching you, snacking on grapes and cheese and crackers like the aesthetic motherfucker he is.

“All I’m saying,” you decide to continue, “is… well, I’ve already said it. But what I’m saying, is, okay, maybe your life wouldn’t be so bad if you let us help?” You see in his eyes that so many arguments are whirling around. The silence grows. You approach him.

“Pour me a glass of champagne,” you order. 

“Why should I do that?” Loki asks, chuckling.

“There you go again, being a bitch!”

“No, Lum, I’m talking about the fact that you’re already intoxicated and I c--” his face contorts. “I c--” He’s stuttering? Wait. You lean in, holding your breath. Is he saying he… cares about you? Loki takes a deep breath. “I cannot  _ stand _ sloppy drunks. Drink the water I set out for you.” 

_ SIGH _ . You see a twinkle of amusement in his eye. He absolutely just fucking played you. You sip the water.

“Oh, and I care about you.” He’s examining his nails casually as he says this, but you choke and sputter on your water, slamming the drink down. He laughs for about five seconds before realizing you’re still coughing. “Are you alright? Lum?” He helps you straighten up and sit back down. He doesn’t know what to fucking do, so you transition into laughter.

“ _ Acting _ ,” you announce. “I can play you too, you bastard.” He laughs in what seems to be a mixture of disbelief and relief.

“Unbelievable.”

“But you care about me.”

“No, I’ve been taking care of you because I hate--”

“Loki!”

“Yes, of course I  _ care _ about you. Do actions say nothing on Midgard?”

“They do, but sometimes it’s nice to hear the person say something, too,” you reason. He crosses his arms. There’s a beat. You put your hands out.

“What?”

“Come here.” He… takes a step closer to you, though he does not offer his hands. “Sit down, now.” Loki looks to be comprised entirely of skepticism in this moment, but he does. His arms remain crossed, so you tug his nearest arm free and intertwine your fingers. “I care about you too.” He contorts his face with distaste. “Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t do  _ vulnerability _ , if you haven’t gathered.” You squeeze his hand. He looks away. “I’ve got half a mind--no, really, almost a full mind to kick you out of here.”

“You’re not though, and I appreciate that.”

Silence falls again, but you let it stay this time. You usually feel anxious about silence, but you’re pretty pleased that he’s letting this much happen.

Oh, shit, you’re kinda sleepy. It’s been a long day. And his bed is so soft. Are his sheets softer than yours? Is that fair? You almost vocalize this complaint, but before you know it, you’re yawning and falling back into soft, soft sleep.

You hope, when you wake up, that this wasn’t a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you want out of this story?! Without being, like, an asshole, I'd love to hear where you guys want this to go. I don't want this to just end once they're ~mutual~. I love Lum and think about them all the time and have been considering a lot of potential little plotlines to develop, many involving Captain America because I'm NGL I was team Cap but this story would've been harder to write without Tony/the Avengers.


	11. Vouching for a Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up. You talk to Tony. You kiss Loki. Wait, hold on--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU GUYS READ THESE NOTES BECAUSE I SWEAR I SAY RELEVANT THINGS.
> 
> Hello again folks! No matter how far apart the updates may be, I am not abandoning this fic, because I am hopelessly in love with Loki Laufeyson and have a sprawling wunderlist of ideas for this story. Like, I now have a whole shelf of Loki merch, invested in more than one cosplay, I'm actually reading comics, I have a LokiLum spotify playlist, and holy shit I've watched The Dark World more than once just to look at his face. He cannot get rid of me. 
> 
> Anyway, a note: this chapter contains the first of many exchanges of physical intimacy! It has been noted to me that often fics will slow-burn up until a confession, and then characters are suddenly dating and in love. That is not what is happening here. It is strongly my opinion that Loki is much more capable of physical affection than he is of actually talking about his feelings. He knows he's attracted to Lum and that Lum is bafflingly devoted to his wellbeing, but they're not going to be "dating" for a while yet. I'm not halfway done with all the builds and interactions I have in my head. So, if you're looking for a fic that's gonna be around for the foreseeable future while I explore my feelings and indulge myself, you're in the right place.

You wake up on an incredibly plush bedspread. This is how you first realize you are not in your room, because this kind of softness is dangerous and you'd never get up in the morning. You sleep on only moderate softness. 

The next way you realize is, as your body becomes aware of its conscious self again, you're... holding someone's hand. Groggily, you look over to see Loki next to you and, sure enough, Loki's hand. 

Okay. 

Uh. 

You don't remember last night particularly clearly, partially because you were somewhat intoxicated, and partially because it was just such a long day. You don't actually remember falling asleep, and as you glance away from the bed, you realize your dress is on the floor and you're in a dressing gown. You cover your mouth with your free hand in shock, only to realize that your makeup also seems to be off? What all happened last night? 

You realize, also, that you're supposed to meet with Tony today to talk about the individual you've woken up half naked next to and holding hands with. That just… seems like such a lesser activity compared to whatever intimacy you seem to be sharing with Loki, whose closeness you still can't fathom. Is it more confusing that you're undressed in his bed, or that you're sharing such an innocent gesture? He looks so much less judgmental and full of himself in his sleep; in fact, he looks incredibly serene, so much so that you want to just.. reach out and cup his face, maybe kiss him. 

But you don't. That would be weird. Would it? Did you guys really... you know? You feel like a teenager. You've had extremely limited sexual experiences, so the idea that this might've happened and you can't remember is frustrating. Did he like it? Did you like it? Geez. Is this the crazy college life you missed out on?

God damn it, you've got to get going. You regretfully let go of his hand and shimmy back into your clothes from last night. You run down the hall to your own room, pretending that the cameras can't see you, then change into some normal clothes before scrambling to find Tony.

"You weren't at training today," he says when you enter. 

"Oh, you know, I just.. drank a little too much, needed some extra rest," you ramble.

"You also weren't at the party last night when I went to say goodnight to you."

"Like I said, uh, drank too much, had to get to bed."

"Lum--"

"We're here to talk about Loki, yes?" you ask, pulling a water bottle out of his mini fridge and starting to nurse away a mild headache. Tony watches you, frustrated.

"If you want to get right to it, sure. Should we start with how I've warned you not to trust him, or how I have tapes of you going into his room last night and leaving today?"

"Maybe that was a different shapeshifter," you say weakly. Tony stares you down, so you groan and put your water down with some force. "He's not what you make him out to be! He--he said he cares about me last night, I think!"

"First off, he's a man. Second, you  _ think? _ "

"It was a very drinky kind of night, and he's genderfluid, too--"

"--He uses 'he' pronouns, are you kidding me--"

"--I don't have time to expand your narrow understanding of the gender binary, Tony, so just, just shut up!"

" _ Excuse _ me?" he asks icily, which you feel a little ashamed about, but this is not the first time you or any other avenger has told him to shut up. He just wants to play up his superiority. You exhale. 

"Gender is more complicated than that. But that's not what we're talking about and you know it." Your headache is only growing, so you drink more water. Hydrate, bitch. "He's hardly done anything except sneak out, which I did  _ with _ him. He's fun to talk to. And... and he's helped me understand my shapeshifting better than anyone else here has! Are you going to take away my strongest mentor?" you ask. 

Vague, irritable grumbling noises emerge from Tony, who stands across from you with crossed arms.

As the silence presses on, you put your hands on your hips. "If you remove him, I'll quit."

"You're really willing to put that much on the line for him."

"With... admitted reluctance, yes. He's worth it. To me."

"He can stay until a major fuckup, which is up to my discretion. I hope he appreciates how much you care about him, kid," Tony says, voice filled with resignation. You wring your hands. Tony makes his exit as you stand watching the water bottle's condensation make a ring on the glass table.

"Yeah, I hope so, too."

\--

"How was your  _ meeting _ ?" Loki asks with a strange venom in his voice when you return to his room later.

"Uh, it was fine. Wait, how did you know about that?"

"Oh, I don't know. I woke up  _ alone _ and asked your friend where you went."

"Wait, Loki, are you  _ jealous? _ "

"I didn't say that," he says stiffly, shifting his weight onto one hip as he blocks you from the doorway. "I just hope you enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed what?" you ask emphatically. You lower your voice. "Are you mad we didn't get a morning-after?"

"A morning after  _ what _ ?"

"I... you know!" you hiss. "Let me in, I don't want to talk about this out here."

Loki looks you up and down before standing aside, letting you in, and shutting the door after you. "You have five minutes."

"Loki, is this how you treat people you sleep with?"

He chokes. "Sleep with?! You held my hand and passed out!"

Oh. "That does sound like me," you mutter. "Wait, but then why did I wake up undressed?"

"The dress was clearly tight on you, I was being  _ considerate, _ a sentiment you hardly returned."

"Was I... supposed to undress you too?"

"No, I just mean--"

"And why did you take my makeup off?!" you ask. You have so many goddamn questions right now.

"It's bad for your skin to sleep in makeup!" he snaps right back. That's... very sweet, actually, but you're still confused as hell. 

"I--okay. Okay, Loki, we need to back up, because I'm confused. Are you mad that I had a meeting?"

Loki simply broods, which is in fact a silent action, but the sound of his angst is overwhelming. You pull at your hair. 

"Loki!"

"I just think it seems very convenient that you would leave my bed unannounced this morning for a 'meeting,' when you don't even wake up in the mornings for training sometimes, not that I keep  _ track _ , and leave me looking absolutely foolish," he spits out all at once, looking at his nails.

Holy shit, where do you start. With his accusing you of having a fake meeting (or is he accusing you of having a hookup maybe? Unclear) or with him pulling the "not that I like you, baka" card? You cover your eyes and take a long deep breath in, and a long deep breath out. 

"I'm not entirely sure what you're insinuating about this meeting, but I woke up in the morning because I needed to talk to Tony to convince him to let you stay, Loki. Because no matter how much you try to convince yourself that the world is out to get you, I have been vouching for you every time he questions keeping you."

You think you can see Loki start to blush in embarrassment, but just as quickly he cuts that shit out and crosses you to sit down on his bed. "No matter how many times you try to tell me this, it doesn't add up."

He's such an emo brat, you think to yourself. Instead of vocalizing this, you follow and sit next to him, resting your head against his shoulder.

"What are you doing." It’s more of a statement than a question. 

"Giving you affection," you reply anyway, closing your eyes. "Do you... not want it?" 

Loki makes a quiet, noncommittal noise. 

"Tell me what you want me to do, Loki."

"Get off my shoulder."

Oh. Ouch. Okay. You thought you were having a moment. "I'm sorry, I just--"

Loki kisses you before you can continue. It's a desperate kiss, where he's cupping your head with his hands and pressing into you. After your initial startle, you return the gesture, slipping your fingers into his hair and kissing until you feel him start to release you. 

When he pulls back, your eyes are glossy, your cheeks are flushed, and your breath is short. He looks smug, somehow. You collapse back on his bed once again.

"You don't fall asleep after every expression of intimacy, do you?"

"I'm not falling asleep, I'm just very,  _ very _ flustered," you stammer out. 

"What a pity," he says idly as he moves over you, going in to kiss your neck. This elicits a surprised mixture of a ticklish giggle and a very embarrassing moan from you.

"Loki--"

"Hmm?"

"I don't--I don't want you to feel like this, has to happen, just because I'm sticking up for you and I obviously like you, or—" he kisses your throat and you lose your train of thought. " _ Fuck _ ."

"It's incredible to me, really, that for all the time you've spent with me that you think I could be pressured into dealing out affection," he replies with more than a little amusement as he comes up to look at you. 

"I just didn't think this would happen, especially with me not wearing any makeup and in leggings, and, please don't be messing with me, okay?" you beg, holding his head in your hands above you. You gather that this is more intimate eye contact than he likes to make, but you also gather that he understands how serious you are because of it. 

"I don't know what's led you to feel so unwanted, but you've been coming into my life, deliberately and repeatedly, since you got here, tempting me and taunting me. So unless you don't want this to happen,  _ stop rambling, Lum." _ And you shut your mouth right up. "That's what I thought." 

And so he goes to town adorning you with kisses, and if this is the thanks you get for sticking up for him, you'd go on strike for weeks in his honor. You squirm and cling to him as he licks up your throat and grips the squish of your waist that you're so often ashamed of. You're melting in his hands when he starts to hook his fingers into your waistband. Panicked, you call out a quick series of words that feel distant from your swimming headspace.

"Idon'tthinkIcandothis."

Loki pauses his kisses to look up at you. "Pardon?"

"I--" you start and stop, "--god I love this, this touching you're doing, but I've never, I can't--"

"You are  _ not _ telling me you're a virgin right now."

"N-no! Well, not entirely?" You groan and sit up. "I've  _ had _ sex with like, a few other people, and we didn't do a lot, they didn't even get me off, I've also never handled, y'know, a dick, so--"

"Oh dear," is all Loki manages to say, getting off of you and sitting down.

"Does that make you not want to do this either?" You ask somewhat sheepishly.

"I've just clearly got my work cut out for me," he says. You can almost see calculations going on in his head. "The rest of this ridiculous team are all well into human adulthood. It escaped me how inexperienced you would be."

"Sorry,” you say softly. Loki sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. You adjust your leggings and watch him. 

This silence draws on, so, tentatively, you scoot towards him and kiss his neck. 

"You know, I've always been applauded by teachers as a quick learner."

Loki snorts. "You'll have to prove that to me."

* * *

**BONUS PIC:**

Drinking buddies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, y'all. Warning for the next chapter: unless I decide to post-pone it, some smut is in your near future. Hope y'all want some lesbian Loki.
> 
> Also, credit where credit is due, because I don't believe I've said this yet: shoutout to my best friend @UnofficiallyLoki for beta-reading the majority of this fic so far.
> 
> Also also, if you want to see me ramble about Loki and post more of my drawings and also have an accessible way to interact with me beyond the comments section, follow @mx_bubbles on twitter!


	12. ****

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki avoids many forms of intimacy, but sex is not one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating is now explicit! Here is some smut for y'all, riddled with Lum's anxieties and weird dwellings on gender, but still smut. Cherish it, because things can only go well in a Loki fic for so long!

Intimacy with Loki is confusing, scary, and interesting. It's confusing because of how vastly far apart your life experiences are, both sexually and in general. It's scary because he has so much more experience than you. It's interesting because of how patient he is, considering how rude you've known him to be. 

You haven't actually had sex with him yet. He doesn't seem too worried about it, but at the same time you can sort of tell he wants it to happen. You suppose after whatever thousand years he's been alive that it's not all that urgent, though people do have needs. It's not that you expected him to be pushy; rather, you didn't expect him to be interested in this at all. 

He's better at physical intimacy than verbal or emotional. This doesn't really surprise you, given... well... everything about him. He withholds compliments or statements of affection (which makes you anxious, truth be told, but you suppress that) but he has absolutely no fear pinning you against a wall and kissing you feverishly. 

You wonder if someday you might hear an, "I love you," between these displays of affection. But you’re not holding your breath. In fact, you're not even sure if he sees you as more than just a plaything, but you can dream.

You find that the most intimate moments between you often come after training. After a long day of fierce physicality and fights for dominance, there’s an undeniable static tension in the air. People have noticed a change in your chemistry, though neither of you openly acknowledge it. You hardly even talk to Finesse about any of this because it feels like such a wild secret that you don't know how to begin to explain. Like everyone else, though, she can clearly tell something's up.  You’ve been dodging the inevitable conversation about your developing love life for as long as possible. But it’s not entirely your fault; you’ve just been too busy to talk. You know, with training. And online classes.

And a lot of touching. 

"Lum," he says one day, while taking a breath. You're in his lap, straddling him and extremely worked up. 

"Hm?"

"To be honest, I'm growing weary of going no further than this. I know you're scared, but what if we try something," and his form shifts beneath you, "more like this?"

You look down, and he now has a far more feminine form, with breasts and curves and, you can only imagine, a vagina. You've been so anxious about handling his dick; you're not sure why this didn't occur to you. Loki is a shapeshifter. 

"I… I think I could be willing to try this," you conclude.

"I thought you might be," he says, and you stop to think about how you are framing this in your mind.

"Do you.. want me to think of you as a girl right now? You know, 'she' and all?"

Loki hums. "I'm not sure why you'd be speaking about me in the third person while I fuck you, Lum." Fair point. "But… why not. I am still me. And me is many things."

A moment of tedious wokeness pauses your train of thought, telling you to say something about how a feminine form does not equate to a vagina, and perhaps you should queer this up a bit more, but goddamn it, you're consenting, genderweird adults, and right now you're growing fond of the tits pressing against your own.You’d been having anxiety about genitals you've never handled, and right now Loki, shockingly, is trying to level with you and start with something more familiar. There will be more opportunities for more forms of expression. You have quite possibly the most fluid Norse god ready to bone. The world is a many-gendered oyster in your very capable hands.

You sit thinking too hard about this, lost in your own thoughts, when Loki hoists you up and flips things so you're on your back beneath… her. Yes. You like the idea of Loki's womanhood right now. It's less intimidating. 

Within moments, Loki is unclasping your bra and you yelp. Loki pauses and looks at you, but you quickly say, "Keep going." With a smirk, she dips her head down and flicks her tongue against your nipple. "Fuck!" 

"Quiet now," she says. "We don't want anyone passing by to hear, do we?" Her voice is like music; you could listen to her speak forever. Or maybe you're just horny. Whatever. 

Loki assuming dominance is no shock, but is such a wonderful sensation. She drags her nails down your sides as she sucks on your breast. Your hands shoot up to cover your mouth; you feel her lips curve into a smile at this.

As Loki works her way down your body, showing absolutely no fear in biting here and there, your apprehension builds. This is scary. You haven't actually done this before. Are you ready? Like, okay, sure, you've been fooling around for weeks now and she's clearly interested, but you're so insecure, and--and she just slid down your pants and placed her open mouth over your panty-covered lips and every thought goes  _ flying _ away from your brain. 

Loki licks up your panties. You move your hands from your mouth to your cheeks, trying to hide a blush as you make eye contact with her. Her gaze unfaltering, she pulls your panties down and replaces her tongue on your bare skin. You let out a long shaky breath that can only be phonetically expressed as, " _ hhhHHHhhHhHHHH _ ."

Your hands, in their endless journey across your face, now cover your eyes while you toss your head back. "This isn't fair," you say. Before any response can be made, you announce, "I want to--I want to touch you."

"Whatever will I do," says Loki with dry amusement. You feel Loki get off of you, sit up on the bed beside you, and settle in. With a peak through your fingers, you see she's waiting. "Well, come on, then." 

You sit up and drink her in as she easily slips off a dress and unhooks her bra. You realize you've taken too long observing when she grabs the back of your head, drags you in for a sloppy kiss, and then shoves your head down to her tits.

"Suck."

You don't think you've ever  _ told _ Loki you like to get bossed around; this is pure Asgardian arrogance. But that's okay, because, uh, you  _ do _ like that. You take one nipple in your mouth and suck like you depend on it. Through heavy lids you can spy her playing with her other one, so you shift your head over to spread the attention. Loki's noises are much more controlled than yours, but they are  _ there _ , and the sound is only working you up further.

Without thinking, you lower your head to her panties and push her back with one hand. Luckily, she falls against some pillows on her extravagant bedspread. She sputters and begins to bark out a retort, but stops, electing to assist you in removing her panties. 

Your tongue is sloppy against her. You have very limited experiences eating pussy, and maybe this isn't the time you planned to really learn, but god damn it you're going to make Loki cum. Loki's legs splay out beneath you, thighs coming up beside your head while she grinds herself into your face.

"You're not bad at this, you know," Loki comments, fingers in your hair. "You've got a lot to learn but-- _ ah _ \--I think I'm willing to hhhelp."

Loki's voice nearly breaking is all you need to encourage you to go harder. As time goes on, her hand grips your hair, pulling you in while her hips roll into your tongue. You're sucking on her clit, then running your tongue along her lips, rubbing your thumb in circles on the slick nub. You lavish her with all the attention you’d need  to get yourself seeing stars. It seems to be working, too. Loki is trembling beneath you, mumbling all kinds of praise and even some begging. You don't quite see yourself as a dom, but you think you could get used to hearing Loki beg. 

When she climaxes, it's hard and fast. Her limbs spasm at the overload, and her grip on your hair tightens a bit painfully, but you keep your mouth lapping at her wetness and taking in every thrust. 

"I was…," Loki mumbles breathlessly, "I was supposed to make  _ you _ cum."

Resorting to memetic nonsense out of mild anxiety, you sputter out, "w-well, that's the way the pussy crumbles, isn't it."

Loki pauses, then laughs, staring at the ceiling. "What the fuck does that  _ mean _ ? That's disgusting." You laugh sheepishly, and she runs her hands through her own hair, shaking her head. "Would you like me to return the favor?"

"I'm... I think I'm okay."

Quirking a brow, Loki looks at you. "You're kidding, right?"

"I mean it," you say quickly. "That was… I've never made someone cum like that before. I kind of... just want to look at you."

"How sentimental."

"You're such a bitch."

"Well, you're looking at me. Is the view satisfactory?" Loki asks, not even deigning to sit up to face you properly.

You stare at Loki. Female, male, or whatever form they decide to take, you are constantly flustered by the bone structure, the softness of the skin--any minor detail that can be acquired from staring just a little too long. It feels incredibly romantic to get to look upon Loki like this. You fear that the feeling is not mutual, a fear that’s only magnified by the  difference in cultures and expectations, and the fact that Loki has never once said something like an "I love you." But that's an anxiety for another time, for another day. Right now a god lies in front of you, one whose identity is as wildly fluid and fluctuating as your own. And they are absolutely stunning. Obnoxious butterflies and lingering arousal give your stomach that awful floating feeling. You're falling in love, even if, you can only assume, it is one-sided. Shit, you're thinking too long again. Quick. Say something. 

"It's breathtaking."

 

**BONUS PIC!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is probably on the shorter end of my chapters! There will be longer ones following. I wanted to sequester the smut into its own chapter so people can gloss over it if they need to, I guess. Or maybe I just didn't know how to fit it with the other chapters! I dunno.
> 
> NEXT UP: AVENGERS GO TO PRIDE!!!!!!!!!!


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